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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841233">Breaking the Knight-Commander</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischieftess/pseuds/Mischieftess'>Mischieftess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Enchanting the Knight-Commander [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wynonna Earp (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha!Templar Nicole, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Explicit Consent, F/F, Mages and Templars, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega!Apostate Waverly, Slice of Tower life, WayHaught in the Dragon Age</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:35:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischieftess/pseuds/Mischieftess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after Waverly's arrival, a dark secret stirs in the depths of the Circle Tower, threatening to sunder the hard-earned peace of the Tower’s templars, mages, and Tranquil. Will Knight-Commander Nicole Haught’s strengths bear them through the fire, or will she break under the strain?</p><p>Welcome (back) to the Tower.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Enchanting the Knight-Commander [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1386790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>501</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All hail <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drummerchick7/pseuds/Grace%20Kay">Grace Kay</a>, my beta!</p><p>This is a sequel, so I’d recommend reading <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226993">Enchanting the Knight-Commander</a> first.</p><p>Breaking the Knight-Commander was originally going to start with what will now be chapter 3.  The first two chapters of this fic are an extra ~13k words of content because of reader fundraising of over $600 for BLM and assorted charities! Thank you to everyone who contributed!</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The frigid air bit at Nicole’s throat and lungs as she heaved in deep, needful breaths. Her feet thumped on the stone, oiled boots crunching through thick layers of snow and slush. Under her armor she was sweating, soaking into her linen underclothes as the leather and wool conspired to keep her core warm while her limbs grew colder and colder. </p><p>Her cheeks and ears had long gone numb, even behind the thick knitted scarf she’d wound around her neck and head. Fereldan winters were <em> cold</em>, and the after-dark chill had settled in to freeze the slush and make footing more treacherous. </p><p>Nicole’s muscles ached. She’d come out here to the Tower’s terrace after an incredibly useless day of paperwork and meetings when she’d realized her weighted weapons and personal training room weren’t enough to salve the strange irritability that had consumed her. Running, though, running was a useful redirect of her restless energy. On her final laps, her frustrations had melded into the familiar refrain. Breathe, run, breathe, run. Just breathing, running, the sky, the stone, the lake, and the <em> cold</em>.</p><p>When Nicole ducked back into the relative warmth of the Tower’s drafty halls, stomping slush off her boots into the rush mat placed just inside the door, she was numb, tired, and her mind was blissfully, utterly <em> quiet. </em> Nicole began the journey back up to her quarters and the beautiful, hot bath waiting for her. </p><p>As she trekked up the stairs, Nicole found herself disliking the way she was still gasping for breath and trying to get over the wobbly sensation in her legs. Falling down the stairs would be a bad look for the Tower’s Knight-Commander.</p><p><em> Am I out of condition? I need to start doing this more often. </em> The winter sickness had passed more than a week ago, but she was still somewhat slower and easier to tire. <em> Maybe I’ll ask Waverly or Gus what they think. </em></p><p>Already several mages had passed her on their way in the opposite direction, edging around her with careful, sidelong glances that didn’t meet Nicole’s eyes. Nicole assumed that the sight of the Knight-Commander red-faced and sweating profusely, damp boots squeaking on the stone, was rather unusual. But soon enough, she was up onto the fourth floor, filled exclusively with templar knights, and her body stopped protesting quite so much. </p><p>
  <em> I’m gonna take a bath, climb into bed, and sleep so well tonight. </em>
</p><p>Her hard-won equanimity was not long-lived.</p><p>As Nicole slowed to enter her office, she began to hear the long-familiar sounds of training soldiers: wood clacking, feet stomping, and people grunting in effort and pain alike. That was all in order, especially when the interior door from the training room was left open to vent some of the humidity. But then, over all of it, she heard a pained yell before a single voice rose above the clamor.</p><p>“Take that, cunt!” It was a male voice, angry, vicious.</p><p>Nicole forgot her exhaustion and ran for the training room. In the few steps it took her to get there, the din intensified.</p><p>The voice slurred. “Lemme go, I’mma teach this bitch a <em> lesson</em>.”</p><p>Nicole reached the threshold and stopped, eyeing the bizarre scene in front of her. The training room was fairly large, stretching a full sixth of the Tower’s circuit. Normally, it could sustain over a dozen training templars, though now it was packed with far more than was normal. Evidently others felt the need to sweat out the winter’s cabin fever. </p><p>In the center of the room, a training dummy was toppled to the side, a blunted practice sword abandoned next to it. To the left, two templars held a third down to the floor as he raved and struggled against them. To the right, one of Nicole’s new templars, an alpha woman with short black hair, stood tall and stiff as she pinched her nose with one hand. Blood was smeared across her lower face and neck, several big red drips staining the simple, sleeveless training tunic she wore. </p><p>But the nosebleed wasn’t what drew Nicole’s full, angry attention. No, that was reserved for the long, wicked slash along the opposite forearm, a deep, angry wound that was flowing liberally in drips and drabs down to splash the stones with red. A slender dagger lay at her feet, streaked with that same blood. </p><p>Sharp weapons were not allowed in training without full armor. The risks of templars permanently injuring each other was too high, considering how difficult it was for deep healing to take effect on lyrium-soaked bone and sinew. The fact that a templar had apparently brought a dagger into this training bout in order to ‘teach this bitch a lesson’ gave Nicole all the excuse she needed to make an example of him. And oh, she was going to make it a <em> good </em> one.</p><p>The room stank, so steeped with sweat, old padding, and alpha stench that Nicole’s alpha roiled inside her, wanting to overpower it all if only to shut down the olfactory assault. She let her own pheromones roll out of her pores, tempering the intensity so that it would add to her authority, not to the chaos.</p><p>“Templars!” Nicole roared in her stentorian battlefield voice.</p><p>The whole room grew deathly silent. Even the pinned templar wrenched his head over to face her, his mouth falling open in what she <em> hoped </em> was dismay. She snarled internally at the sight of his face. <em> Hardy</em>.</p><p>Nicole strode forward, ignoring the way her legs threatened to wobble from underneath her. Their endurance would come back soon enough. Her voice was cold and firm as she said, “I assume no one will tell me what happened here, so I’m not going to ask.” Nicole pointed at Ceoric, a middle-aged templar. “Bring a healer. The First Enchanter, if she’s free.”</p><p>As Ceoric scrambled out the door, Nicole felt all the irritability of the past day, all the frustrated angst she’d willed away with the cold and the rhythm of her feet on the stone, come back into her with the heat of rage behind it. </p><p>“Bring him, and arm him.” Nicole strode forward and scooped up the abandoned sword, then stalked toward the door leading out onto the cold, ice-encrusted stone terrace encircling this level of the tower. She wrenched it open and stepped outside. The low, crenelated balustrade was lit only by the lights shining through the training room windows and the starry, moonlit sky far above, the darkness below them deep and velvety until Nicole's eyes began to adjust and see the light reflecting off the choppy lake waters below. The air felt almost crystalline in its clarity and frigidity, and Nicole felt the sweat at her brow and under her armor begin to chill.</p><p>Behind her, she heard the shuffle of feet and turned, putting the starlit sky and the massive drop into Lake Calenhad at her back. Hardy was shoved forward, a practice sword in hand. Templars in various states of training gear and armor filled the doorway, blocking his retreat and spying on his punishment at once.</p><p>“Defend yourself,” Nicole said, and danced forward. She already knew the outcome of this exercise – Hardy could only be considered a good swordsman if you thought brute force equaled skill. She sent her practice sword tapping, weaving, snaking into all the chinks in Hardy's guard. As the idiot stumbled backward, Nicole hissed though her teeth at his clumsiness. What a fool.</p><p>"What is forbidden in sparring matches, Templar Hardy?"</p><p>Hardy's face was a study of fear and indecision as he locked into a defensive crouch, wooden blade held rigidly, uselessly ahead of him. </p><p>"Umm," he said.</p><p>Nicole baited him and he reacted, lunging for the intentional hole in her guard. She slammed her practice weapon into his arm, right where she predicted he'd leave an opening. His sword wobbled, his nerveless fingers unable to keep a tight grip as he backpedaled.</p><p>“It’s an easy question, Templar.” She had him trapped, he had his back now to the void beyond.</p><p>"I don't–"</p><p>Nicole set her left leg, leaned back, and slammed the sole of her right boot squarely into his sternum. The shock on his face as he staggered backward, the way it morphed to horror when the low battlement hit his calves and his foot slipped, and the fear that flashed through his eyes as his flailing arms failed to keep him on the stone all shot vindictive pleasure into Nicole's veins.</p><p>Templar Hardy toppled over the edge with a formless wail of horror.</p><p>The void beyond the torchlight lit up with a thrum of immense magical power that buzzed through Nicole's teeth. A massive web of magic, woven with interlaced colors in a dizzyingly-complex pattern that defied Nicole's understanding, shone against the night's gloom.</p><p>The screaming trailed away as Nicole walked to the edge and looked down. Some two meters below her, threads of magic bent slightly under his weight, Templar Hardy lay suspended, his limbs frozen in fear. The bright magic light washed his face even paler, if possible. Far, far below, a distorted, choppy image of the magical net reflected back at them from where the lake lapped against the base of the Tower.</p><p>Nicole pitched her voice to cut through the icy wind howling past the tower, knowing it would also carry to the templars behind her. “There is <b>no</b> excuse good enough to justify striking another in anger in <b> <em>my Tower</em></b>,” Nicole snarled. "This is your last warning. If you step a single hair out of line, Hardy, I'll turn the wards off next time. Am I understood?"</p><p>A tremulous, "Yes," floated back up to her. </p><p>Nicole waited.</p><p>"Yes, Knight-Commander."</p><p>Dark satisfaction curled into a contented ball in Nicole's gut. She turned to the nearest Knight-Lieutenant. "Leave him there for a quarter bell, then reel him back in. He stays in the dungeon until I say otherwise."</p><p>"Yes, Knight-Commander."</p><p>Nicole stalked back into the training room and through the crowd of templars, all of whom were avoiding her eyes. Once through their ranks she stepped, relieved, into the hallway. Her rage at Hardy's <em> repeated </em> demonstration of his unsuitability for the Templar Order had barely abated, but that problem was for the Knight-Commander of tomorrow. For tonight, she could slowly release her grip on it while in the bath.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>An hour or so later, Nicole floated on her back, serenely buoyant on the surface of her hot bath. The muted, echoey water sounds in her submerged ears reminded her of summers spent in the lowland lakes and rivers of her childhood, splashing around with her siblings. When her closest sister was young enough to not yet be interested in fine embroidery, she and Nicole had conspired to dunk their least-adventurous sister at any opportunity. This had occurred frequently enough that their mother had assigned them to learn to wash, dry, and repair the articles of clothing they'd drenched. Nicole had gained a healthy respect for the work of washers, and she tried to minimize her waste of clean linens now that she no longer had a shift down in the Tower's laundry with the rest of the rank and file.</p><p>But now, years and years later, she could look back on those halcyon times with a healthy respect for both their simplicity and her youthful naiveté. She’d thought at the time that those summers were endless, eternal, that they’d always be with her. When she was at Highever with the future Hero of Ferelden, she’d thought so too. But once her training started, once she was hauled off to be trained as a templar, no more was she allowed to take time to herself, to play games, to be a child. If she looked at it analytically, it was only now that she was at her most responsible that she was allowed any time to herself–</p><p>A shift in the air, some impalpable sense of difference, sent Nicole into high alert in a moment. She splashed to her feet in the deep center of the tub, throwing her sopping hair out of her eyes.</p><p>Waverly blinked at her from the bathroom door, her hand still on the latch. As they stared at each other, the water dripping down Nicole's chin plinked a soft tattoo onto the water at chest height.</p><p>Waverly was wearing a soft, thick mage's robe of light green wool, accentuated with darker embroidery on the bodice and sleeves. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, glowing in the sparse candlelight illuminating the bathroom and backlit by the firelight in Nicole’s quarters. </p><p>"Waverly?" Nicole said. She scented the air and felt a frown grow at her temples. Waverly smelled fine, lavender predominating in her scent, but she was standing oddly. Something was different.</p><p>It had been four weeks since Waverly's heat, and while the half-bond had been sated there had been only a few visits since, except for when Nicole was sick two weeks previously. But for those other visits, Waverly had always arrived when Nicole was in her office, and at most they’d shared a meal. The last time had been just two days previously, and everything had seemed fine. Waverly had just wanted to be held for a short time, and Nicole had been more than pleased to help with that goal. They had both been content with that level of intimacy, and parted on good terms. This – Waverly barging into Nicole’s inner sanctum without invitation – this had never happened before.</p><p>"Oh, I'm sorry, this was stupid, I should have knocked," Waverly said, turning to face away from Nicole. "I shouldn't even be here."</p><p>Nicole waded to the edge of the tub and groped for her towel. "It's fine, just let me-" </p><p>"I'm inconveniencing you, aren't I?" Waverly took a step toward the bedroom, then groaned, clutching her stomach.</p><p>Nicole leapt out of the tub, nearly collapsing as her rubbery legs adapted only partly back to walking. She managed somehow and made it to Waverly's side.</p><p>"Are you all right?" Nicole asked, hands hovering without touching Waverly's arm, trying to see her face. She always waited for Waverly to initiate touch, her own private rule to keep temptation and overreach at bay. After all, she always <em> wanted </em> to touch Waverly.</p><p>Waverly's face was screwed up in obvious distress. "It's just a cramp."</p><p>Baffled, Nicole blinked down at Waverly, her mind supplying malady after malady. It could be bad food, or the runs you get after drinking pondwater. Both were almost unheard of in the Tower, however, and Waverly was enough of a healer to deal with both of those in moments. </p><p><em> Oh</em>.</p><p>"Waverly, do you have your, um, your..."</p><p>Waverly cocked a sardonic eyebrow at Nicole and said, "You can say it."</p><p>Nicole stumbled over the words. "Your blood moon."</p><p>Waverly straightened, laughed, then pressed her hand against her stomach once again. "Yeah, yeah, you could say that. It’s the time for it, after all."</p><p>Nicole panicked. It wasn't a loud panic. She didn't run around like a beestung pup, she didn't yelp or ask Waverly what to do. But she did stand there, naked and dripping, and think furiously for far, far too long. <em> What can I do to help?  </em></p><p>Waverly wilted, still holding her hand to her stomach. "So I'm gonna go."</p><p>That jerked Nicole out of her alarm. "You don't have to. Do you want to take a bath?" It was frank favoritism, this allowance of Nicole’s private bath for Waverly's use, but she was hurting and Nicole found she didn't much care for propriety at this moment.</p><p>Waverly stopped, turning back, eyeing Nicole with dawning hope. "Yeah. I'd like that." Her gaze flickered down, then back up, a blush beginning to mount on her cheeks. </p><p>Nicole might have lingered at that look, might have asked if Waverly wanted her to join in on that bath, had she not just come upon an idea and begun acting on it before she’d thought it completely through. "All right, you do that. I just thought of something I had to do, I'll be back in a little while."</p><p>Before Waverly could speak, Nicole strode into her bedroom, closed the bathroom door, and started drying off, then changed into a simple tunic and trousers. She had a mission to perform.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Nicole found the First Enchanter in her private study, tidying up the space for the night. </p><p>"Help," Nicole said. "I throw myself on your mercy."</p><p>Gus blinked up at her. The mage's short, white-speckled black hair was curling more vigorously than usual, possibly reacting to the humidity of the lakebound Tower’s winter chill. "Oh dear, this sounds serious." The smile-lines around her brown eyes deepened at the words, betraying her amusement.</p><p>Nicole described the situation with Waverly as delicately as possible. </p><p>"Ah, that explains some things. I can give you an entire basket of remedies, Nicole, though the only true cure for this malady is time." </p><p>"The basket, too, please," Nicole said, trying for levity. </p><p>Gus was, indeed, already filling a basket with all sorts of sachets, cloths, and even a large, smooth stone with a big rune in the middle. "Mm. Make sure she sees the stone. Oh, and next time you need to punt that Templar off the tower, could you turn the wards off? That blade had feces smeared on it. I'm going to have to check Templar Kyra's wound daily for infection." </p><p>Nicole growled. She'd thought the Hardy problem had settled down once his lengthy shift in the toilets had ended. Evidently it had simply reached a new stage. </p><p>"I'll deal with him. For now, he's back in the cells."</p><p>"Good." Gus nodded and handed over the basket. "Have you ever dealt with menses?"</p><p>"Yes." Nicole fiddled with the woven handle, letting her blunt fingernail run along the twisted grooves between strands of reed, calluses gliding on the smooth surface. "I have sisters, and the betas I’ve known talk about it, though not in a lot of detail." </p><p>Nicole thought about Shae, about how her fellow Knight-Lieutenant had been grumpy and hungry once a month, ravenous for attention but so sensitive to touch, how she’d kick Nicole out of bed one night and seek her out the next. But she decided not to mention it. Shae was long gone and far away, and her absence no longer hurt as much as it had after the Battle of Denerim.</p><p>"Well, everyone's different, but keep in mind that it's painful and emotions can run high."</p><p>Nicole snorted. </p><p>"Oh, and sometimes being intimate helps." Gus winked at her and then made a shooing motion with her hands. "Out, Knight-Commander, this mage needs to get to bed, and you're leaving that poor girl waiting."</p><p>Nicole stumbled to her feet, grabbed the basket, and fled. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Waverly was still in the bath when Nicole got back to her quarters, carrying the basket and a flagon of wine. Calamity had returned while Nicole was out and was curled in her bed next to the fire.</p><p>"Hey, Calamity," Nicole said, kneeling down to poke the fire back to life, adding another log, and swinging the heavy tea kettle over the flame. It was already warm from before her bath. There was enough water for a pot or two full of soothing tea, though she'd let Waverly choose which one to drink. The herb packets all looked similar to her unsophisticated eye.</p><p>Calamity's heavy head landed on Nicole's knee. She'd stretched out from her bed and nosed Nicole’s hand as she rolled slightly to show Nicole where to scratch. With a chuckle, Nicole let her fingers dig into the thick winter coat, scratching a doggy groan out of Calamity's throat.</p><p>"And where were you today when I had to throw a templar off the Tower?" Nicole asked. Calamity yawned in her face. "You're right, I did have it handled. You were downstairs getting scraps in the kitchen, weren't you?"</p><p>Calamity's contented whuff blew meaty dog breath across Nicole's face. She chuckled. </p><p>At a creak of the door, she looked up. Waverly was bundled up in Nicole's robe, her damp hair cascading down over her back. </p><p>"Hey, you ran away." Waverly’s eyes swept over the tableau and she smiled. </p><p>"I came back bearing gifts!" Nicole said, patting the great bearskin she was sitting on. "Come, stay warm by the fire."</p><p>Waverly did so after a brief stop to greet Calamity, who wiggled and accepted her scratches. As she settled beside Nicole, the mild grimace on her face spoke to her discomfort. Then she reached out and touched the basket. "What is this?" </p><p>"Some things that might help."</p><p>"Hmm, you went to Gus?" Waverly sniffed one packet, then another, her delicate fingers caressing the beeswax-saturated cloth bundling each together. She selected one and unfolded it, spreading back the wrapper until the dried herbs were revealed. "That was kind, thank you. I didn’t think to bring anything. May I have your teapot?"</p><p>Nicole scooped up the vessel from her tea set next to the fire. Waverly shredded the herbs into the basin and let out a groan, curling forward.</p><p>Nicole reached for the basket, searching for the runed stone. </p><p>"Oh," Waverly said when Nicole pressed it into her hand. "This will be perfect."</p><p>As Nicole watched, the rune came alight under Waverly's fingers, each circuit of her touch brightening the glow until she stopped and reversed the path slightly. The glow dimmed, then steadied.</p><p>"What does that rune do?" Nicole asked. </p><p>"It gets just as warm as I want it to, no more," Waverly said. She unceremoniously opened the front of Nicole's robe to place the stone against her lower belly. </p><p>Nicole looked toward the fire, feeling unexpectedly awkward at the sight of Waverly's skin and the dark hair between her legs. It didn't make any sense – they'd seen each other naked many times and would continue to do so in the future. But there was something about this calm, matter-of-fact ministration toward Waverly's comfort that felt more intimate than sex.</p><p>The water boiled. Nicole came up into a crouch so that she could tip the kettle into the teapot. The smell of ginger, lemon balm, elfroot, and other scents she couldn't identify filled the air.</p><p>"I heard there was an incident upstairs," Waverly said. </p><p>Nicole turned to her, setting herself back on the rug with a groan. She was still sore from her run, despite her long soak in the bath earlier. "Not much of one." </p><p>Waverly raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her knees. "Oh? I heard some gossip that a certain Knight-Commander got so angry with a templar that she threw him off the tower into the wards." Amusement flavored Waverly's words. She sounded fond.</p><p>Nicole a hand through her short hair. It was almost dry now, and the rumpling would likely make it stand out in an unruly halo. "Gossip."</p><p>"We all felt the wards activate, Nicole. They're incredible, we couldn't not. Templars started running through the Great Hall for the stairs, and mages ran for the windows. How long did you let him dangle?"</p><p>"A quarter bell." Nicole rested her chin on one knee. When Waverly put it like this, her simple punishment turned into a stunt that would have the Tower talking for weeks. She should have handled it more privately.</p><p>"Well, Gus was grumbling when she came back, so he probably deserved it." She leaned closer to Nicole, voice held conspiratorially low. "Did you know he pissed himself? In front of everyone, too. His trousers were frozen stiff when Gretta pulled him off the wards."</p><p>Nicole let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Good!" It was surprising how easily her mood, so sour and entrenched throughout the day, could be lifted by a mere conversation with Waverly.</p><p>Waverly poured herself some tea, adding honey. Nicole drank from her flagon, savoring a mouthful of rich port as she scritched Calamity’s cheek. Waverly smelled good, their scents mixing together wondrously from the bath herbs and Nicole’s robe. Nicole held herself back from blatantly sniffing the air, but it was a near thing. They sat there in companionable silence for a time, watching the crackling fire, until Waverly spoke again. </p><p>“I’m relieved, you know. I haven’t started bleeding yet, but this feels like every other blood moon. We cut it a little close to the quick on the contraceptive during my heat.” Waverly sipped her tea. </p><p>Nicole blew out a breath. It had been a niggling fear in the back of her mind after Waverly’s heat, though there’d been no sign that the potion hadn’t worked. Still, somewhere very deep inside, Nicole’s alpha was disappointed at the news. Nicole squished the thought. There was no place in their lives or the Tower for a child (not that they’d be allowed to keep it – all children of mages belonged to the Chantry, without fail), and it would cause the Nightingale’s carefully laid plans to fail. Innumerable future omega mages were depending on them not to screw this up. Her alpha could go rut itself.</p><p>Nicole cleared her throat. "I’m relieved, too. Have you been well? It’s been a few days since we talked."</p><p>"Mm, emotional and bloated, but doing well regardless. I think I may request a transfer from working in the storage caves, though. Templar Lonnie is doing quite well and I’d like to do something with better lighting.” </p><p>“That sounds good. The quartermaster is pleased with both of you. What are you considering?”</p><p>“The garden, maybe?” Waverly sipped her tea, the firelight giving her face a warm glow. “I’ve always liked plants and growing my own herbs. I find it peaceful. And Gus can teach me more about the herbs I’m using if I know how they grow. There are certain things you can do, spells you can use, to enrich them before they’re ready to harvest.” </p><p>“I didn’t know that. It sounds like a good place to be. And there’s plenty of sunlight.”</p><p>Waverly nodded. “It’s nice, and the air smells wonderful. I like talking to the bees.”</p><p>"Do they talk back?"</p><p>Waverly laughed. "No, silly, they're bees. They just buzz."</p><p>Nicole smiled, feeling indulgent with the ridiculous conversation. "I'm just a simple templar, how was I to know that bees don't have a secret language to communicate with mages?"</p><p>"They do have a secret language! But it's not for us, it's for other bees. They dance to tell other bees where to find good flowers."</p><p>"Oh, ok, I see how it is, now you're just making fun of me. Dancing bees?"</p><p>Waverly opened her eyes wide. "It's true! I'll show you the book about it."</p><p>Nicole sat back, still scruffing Calamity's chest. "Well if it's in a book it has to be true."</p><p>"Hmph. I'll teach you, unbeliever." Waverly emptied her teacup</p><p>Nicole picked up the teapot before Waverly could, stabilizing the teacup and pouring carefully. </p><p>“Thanks.” Waverly added a substantial glob of honey and stirred it in, sipping once and then adding more. </p><p>“Would you like some tea with your honey?” Nicole asked, laughing at the blush that marched up Waverly’s neck at the teasing. </p><p>“Hey I’m getting ready to bleed, I get some sweetness!” Waverly protested.</p><p>“Let's just say that now I know why you like bees so much. And that reminds me, there’s some pastries on the way tomorrow morning, if you want to stay tonight.”</p><p>Waverly’s eyes snapped to Nicole’s face from her tea. She looked surprised.</p><p>Nicole backpedaled. “Um, not to try to bribe you, I just thought it might be nice for you to not have to go all the way back downstairs when it’s this cold.”</p><p>Waverly shook her head and, inexplicably, her eyes filled with tears.</p><p>Nicole’s dismay grew. “I, ah, oh no, what’s wrong?” <em> What did I say? </em></p><p>Waverly put down her teacup and turned. She pulled herself partway onto Nicole’s lap and into an embrace, resting her cheek on Nicole’s chest. <em> Oh. Not bad, then. </em> Nicole awkwardly rubbed Waverly’s back, feeling the thick fabric of her dressing gown and the warmth of Waverly’s skin underneath. Waverly’s wet hair had dampened the cloth. The scent of her, rich with honey from the tea or her own omega, wafted seductively into Nicole’s senses.</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong, you’re just being very nice.” Waverly murmured into the blue linen of Nicole’s shirt. “I also cried today because one of the mabari was teaching her puppies how to play tug rope.” She sniffled. “They were very clumsy and kept falling over, making little yips and growls, and running back over to grab the rope again.”</p><p>Nicole pressed her lips to the crown of Waverly’s head. Her confusion was fading, replaced with a deep, warm fondness.  “Oh. That sounds very cute.” She couldn’t help herself, inhaling deeply, feeling her eyes close with how <em> good </em> Waverly smelled.</p><p>“It was <em> so </em> cute,” Waverly said with a small, hiccupping sob. “They’re just so small and round. I couldn’t stop crying. I had to hide in a storeroom until I stopped dripping all over the flagstones.”</p><p>Nicole held back a comment about the last time she saw Waverly dripping all over anything. This clearly wasn’t an appropriate time for that sort of thing. But the thought, added to Waverly’s warm weight on her lap, still stirred her ever-eager alpha interest. Before Nicole could say anything to divert Waverly’s attention from the rising alpha pheromones, Waverly sniffed the air.</p><p>“I didn’t think you’d be attracted to me crying or talking about <em> puppies</em>, Nicole,” Waverly said, then leaned back with a small, goofy smile creasing her tear-stained cheeks.</p><p>“Ah,” Nicole said, ducking her head. “Sorry, not intentional.” Then she had a flash of inspiration. “Unless you want it to be, of course.”</p><p>“Want it to be?” Waverly squinted at her, tears drying, then her eyes widened. “Oh. <em> Oh</em>.”</p><p>“Up to you, Waverly. I know everyone’s got, um, different needs in their blood mo–”</p><p>Before Nicole could even finish her sentence, Waverly pulled her down into a kiss. She tasted like lemon, ginger, and honey with just a tinge of salt. </p><p>“Yeah,” Waverly said, breath puffing into Nicole’s nose, her omega pheromones rising into the air around them, melding into a cloying bouquet. “I want it to be intentional. I’ve been wanting you all day, but you ran out of the bathroom so fast that I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same.”</p><p>Nicole groaned and pulled Waverly back in, feeling the softness of her lips, the warm wetness of her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, pulling Waverly’s lip between her teeth to tug at it. “I wanted to help.”</p><p>“Well.” Waverly drew out the word. “I got to see you soaking wet in all your glory so, yes, you’ve helped. The bath and tea helped. And so has the stone. But something that’s really missing from tonight’s list of remedies is you helping me come.”</p><p>Nicole chuckled, confidence and interest flooding into her, making her feel strong, protective, and aroused in equal measure. “I can do that.”</p><p>Without further delay, Nicole scooped Waverly into her arms and twisted to spill her onto the deep, soft fur of the bearskin beneath them. Waverly’s surprised laugh was smothered with another kiss, her lips parting to let Nicole lick her way inside. Nicole let her eyes fall shut and concentrated on <em> feeling</em>, smelling, hearing, tasting Waverly underneath her. <em> Maker,  </em> she thought, <em>It's so good to be back here again.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nicole and Waverly reconnect after far too long apart.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! I hope y'all are keeping safe and warm wherever you are. We are now 11 months into some form of quarantine lockdown, so I hope this plentiful smut finds and keeps you well. Stay strong, wear masks, and make sure to take care of your mental health. We CAN get through this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> Last time: </span>
</p><p>Without further delay, Nicole scooped Waverly into her arms and twisted to spill her onto the deep, soft fur of the bearskin beneath them. Waverly’s surprised laugh was smothered with another kiss, her lips parting to let Nicole lick her way inside. Nicole let her eyes fall shut and concentrated on <em> feeling</em>, smelling, hearing, tasting Waverly underneath her. <em> Maker</em>, she thought, <em> It's so good to be back here again. </em></p><p> </p><p><span class="u"> Now </span>:</p><p>With a huff, Calamity hauled herself to her paws and walked away, claws clicking on the flagstones. Nicole would have to remind herself to get the mabari a big bone from the kitchen as an apology tomorrow. But with the click of the door, all thoughts of Calamity were gone from Nicole’s mind, displaced by the woman in her arms.</p><p>Waverly’s arousal blossomed around them, her lavender-honey scents almost masking the subtle traces of vanilla from Nicole’s mark. Nicole's alpha reveled in the proof of her claim, much as she tried to control it. It was too intoxicating to smell Waverly's need for her in conjunction with the permanent, abiding scent of her own alpha. It was like water in the desert to Nicole, who for weeks had only had the shameful, hidden hoard of bedding from Waverly's heat to bury her face in at night.</p><p>But now, all that glorious omega scent was here, filling Nicole's nose and lungs and mouth, seeping warm excitement into her core. It was too much and not enough all at once, and as Nicole licked into a Waverly's mouth she drank her down like the ocean, wet and fragrant and <em> hers. </em> Her own scents, apple and vanilla and just a trace of spicy cinnamon, flowed into the space around them.</p><p>Waverly's hands were buried in Nicole's hair, tugging as she moaned into Nicole's mouth. Nicole growled and caught her tongue, sucking at the tip, then swept back inside. Waverly tasted so good, so right, and the slick sounds from their kissing only fed Nicole's arousal. Nicole pressed down into her omega, feeling the warmth through her shirt and trousers.</p><p>Suddenly, Nicole realized they were too far apart, separated by too many layers of cloth. They moved at the same time, their urgency in sync. Nicole hurried to pull the robe’s tie open and felt Waverly tugging at her shirt, short fingernails scraping across her back as linen was pulled up. It promptly got stuck under her arms, and Waverly growled, pulling at it.</p><p>Nicole laughed and pushed up, groping for the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. Through the tousled mess of her hair, she saw Waverly spread under her like a feast, the robe parted to reveal soft breasts with nipples just beginning to stiffen. Waverly’s eyes were dark, hungry as they scanned down Nicole’s torso, and her lips were swollen and pink from their kissing. Nicole let her own gaze wander and was caught on the soft, dark curls between Waverly’s legs, the way her cunt lips peeked out from inside. The first scents of her, the sweet, beckoning musk of her inviting cunt, caught Nicole in a spell that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with Waverly.</p><p>It would be premature to succumb to Waverly’s temptations out of order. Nicole bent close, burying her hands in the bearskin, to kiss Waverly again. “Are your breasts sensitive right now?”</p><p>“Oh, yes, please,” came Waverly’s answer, brushing against her lips.</p><p>Nicole smiled and ducked her head, nibbling the skin along Waverly’s neck. Waverly’s damp hair tickled her nose as Nicole licked her way down, paying special attention to the taut cords of Waverly’s muscles and the divot of her collarbone.</p><p>While Nicole made her way downward, she felt Waverly’s hand cup her breast, squeezing softly before fingers found the nipple. Nicole, already half-changed from the sheer sight and feel and <em> scent </em> of Waverly beneath her, groaned with the twinge that bounced from her nipple to her spine to her clit, tightening all sorts of interesting things between her thighs.</p><p>Nicole looked up from her lips’ perusal of the curve of one breast, catching Waverly looking down at her. “You’re so soft,” Nicole murmured, kissing closer to Waverly’s nipple. “So warm.”</p><p>The fingers at Nicole’s breast tugged at her nipple, and she hissed, arching into nothingness. <em> Maker, that feels good. </em> Nicole succumbed and took Waverly’s nipple into her mouth. The puckered, tightened flesh gave under her tongue, its soft, supple texture feeding back delight to her senses as Waverly whined and pulled her closer with a hand twined in her hair. </p><p>Nicole hummed against skin, air streaming out between them as she used her leverage to press Waverly flat against the rug. Waverly’s affection for this treatment was obvious in the grip of her fingernails against Nicole’s scalp and the little sounds that leaked between her lips. The slow grind Waverly was making along Nicole’s stomach, wet and textured with thick curls, left a trail that further pulled at Nicole’s instincts, drawing her downward.</p><p>Nicole resisted the call, licking and biting across to Waverly’s other nipple. One nip drew a hiss from Waverly with the whispered protest, “Sensitive.”</p><p>“Sorry, Sunshine, I’ll be more careful,” Nicole said, meaning every word. Normally, Waverly liked being marked up, her omega instincts basking in Nicole’s possessive lovebites. But evidently tonight was a gentle night. </p><p>Waverly’s omega did bask, however, in something that had just happened, because a wave of pleasure surged through the bond, filling Nicole’s chest with liquid warmth. Nicole didn’t know what it was, maybe her attentiveness or her willingness to accommodate Waverly’s needs, but whatever it was felt <em> good </em> and she wanted to make it happen again. Her alpha purred, pushing her to do more, be more, be <em> everything </em>for Waverly, and Nicole was hard-pressed to find a reason why not. Within reason, of course.</p><p>“I can almost taste you already,” Nicole muttered, rubbing her lips across Waverly’s areola before she let her lips just tweak the nipple, teasing. “You smell so good, my mouth is watering.” A broad, dragging lick pulled up on Waverly’s breast, across the nipple, and then Nicole blew to chill it and watch the skin tighten before she took it into her mouth once more.</p><p>“Andraste,” Waverly cursed. </p><p>Nicole felt the strain in Waverly’s thighs as she tried to pull Nicole’s stomach down to meet her. Nicole held fast, barely in reach. She was nothing if not strong, after all, and for what purpose was strength if you didn’t use it to tease a little?</p><p>“I love to make myself wait to taste you,” Nicole whispered, letting her teeth scrape oh-so-gently along the soft mound of Waverly’s breast, just hard enough to leave little track marks of saliva. She propped herself on one elbow and used that hand to press Waverly flat to the fur again, denying her that tempting grind.</p><p>“You love teasing,” Waverly accused, flush running high in her cheeks, eyes a blazing ring of hazel around deep black pupils.</p><p>Nicole could not find the lie in it. She let her lips curl into a smirk. “You love it too, I can tell because you get so wet for me.”</p><p>“It’s frustration!”</p><p>“You come so hard when I finally touch you, though. Don’t you want to come hard for me?”</p><p>Waverly’s full-body shiver provoked Nicole’s growing hunger, filled her alpha with confident eagerness, and stoked the warm pressure building in her cock, pressing against the seams of her simple linen trousers. </p><p>Here in the quiet, the two of them and the crackling fire, Nicole was attuned to each miniscule change in Waverly’s responses. She knew from experience that Waverly’s frustration would melt away into vigorous enthusiasm the moment Nicole touched her, that she’d come from the stroking of Nicole’s tongue and demand more afterward. But something was different this time, an unusual air of vulnerability. For the first time during any of their assignations, Nicole watched a tear bead up at the corner of Waverly’s eye and spill down the side of her face.</p><p>“Hey,” Nicole reached up to cradle Waverly’s cheek, needing to connect. Her alpha roiled in concern as Waverly’s eyes cracked open. They were wet, teary, her eyelashes beginning to clump together. <em> Did I do something wrong? </em>“What’s–"</p><p>Waverly interrupted her, a determined light in her wet, watering eyes. “I am <em> fine</em>, Nicole Haught, you keep going until I tell you to stop.”</p><p>A scent of fresh-cut rosemary swelled over Waverly’s honey sweetness, betraying her irritation. Nicole hesitated for just another second, uncertainty stiffening her muscles, but at a legitimate glare from Waverly she shook herself and set herself back to her task.</p><p>The whine Waverly let out as Nicole stooped to chase the scent of her cunt, the hand cradling the back of her neck, and the sight of Waverly veritably dripping for her all reassured Nicole that it was, indeed, her sworn duty to slide herself down until her bare stomach and chest brushed the warm brocade of the robe under Waverly's body. The soft bear fur slid between her toes where she braced them. With her thumb, she parted Waverly’s lips and watched in entranced hunger as she slid it down, collecting thick, fragrant wetness and smearing it back up and over her clit. </p><p>Waverly’s released breath carried a curse with it, something soft and reverent. </p><p>Nicole swallowed the saliva pooling on her tongue in order to speak. “You’re so wet for me."</p><p>Waverly’s legs fell open still further and Nicole took the opportunity to mouth Waverly’s inner thigh as she traced slippery circles on the firm clit with her thumb. Waverly’s skin was so soft against her lips, warm from the bath and scented with Nicole’s herbal soaps. Nicole stroked her tongue over Waverly’s skin, matching its strokes to those of her thumb. Waverly ground uselessly against Nicole’s fingers, seeking friction, and Nicole gave it while drinking in the sight of Waverly’s muscles tensing and relaxing.</p><p>Waverly tugged at Nicole’s hair, muscles rippling in her belly as she crunched up to deliver her instructions. “Your mouth.” Her voice was a whisper-growl, the sound shivering down Nicole’s spine.</p><p>Nicole obeyed, all teasing leaving her mind at Waverly’s forthright demand. This was something she wanted <em> so </em> badly. She always wanted to taste Waverly, wanted to bury her face here and contemplate never leaving. She pressed Waverly’s thigh up and to the side and dipped to take her first taste. <em> Andraste. </em> Waverly’s hips rolled up to meet her, smearing hot wetness over her mouth and chin, and Nicole’s eyes fluttered closed at the sheer bliss of her taste. </p><p>This was her favorite. The warm, soft, fragrant wetness against her face, the little sounds of Waverly’s encouragement, the <em> taste </em> of Waverly as Nicole licked her way further inside, all of it combined to steep Nicole’s mind in the essence of Waverly’s being. Nothing else existed, just alpha, omega, and slick warmth against her face. Waverly’s clit, its little hood sliding beneath Nicole’s tongue, was firm between her lips. Nicole laved it generously with her tongue and then sucked softly, matching Waverly’s rocking thrusts with slides and sucks and lapping strokes.</p><p>“Fuck, Nicole, I've missed this,” Waverly said, voice rough with need, her fingers tugging at Nicole’s hair.</p><p>Nicole groaned at her own pulse of arousal, the thought that Waverly had missed <em> her </em> sending alpha satisfaction seeping into the amalgam of pleasure refining itself in her mind. If Nicole's mouth had been free at that moment, she would have said, “Me too.” </p><p>Instead, Nicole snaked an arm under Waverly’s splayed thigh to reach up, grasping her breast, and took a deep breath. Then Nicole dove, sliding down until her tongue could dip inside Waverly’s opening, holding her breath as she buried her nose against soft, yielding flesh. The pool of Waverly’s arousal was slick, salty-rich across her tongue and down her throat. Nicole felt just the beginning tightness of Waverly’s opening with the tip of her tongue, swirling it around to gather Waverly’s essence and scoop it into her mouth with sloppy, sucking sounds. Nicole’s world narrowed to this bliss and it was good.</p><p>Nicole came up and huffed in sweet air, her nose smeared with wetness that flavored every breath. Waverly panted with her, whining on each exhale, her pupils wide in the flickering firelight. Nicole grinned, feral satisfaction and joy filling her as she went back to her pleasurable labor. Waverly’s thighs flexed against Nicole’s hold, arching herself up to meet Nicole’s mouth. </p><p>Nicole flattened her tongue, gently compressing the clit and dragging it with each lick, dipping into new wetness with every long, deep stroke. Then she took it into her mouth, sucking gently.</p><p>“Fuck, ‘m close,” Waverly muttered. </p><p>Nicole moaned through her nose, pressing close and rolling her neck with each of Waverly’s thrusts against her face, letting Waverly set the pace and chase her pleasure. The sweet, hot, <em> insistent </em> slide of it, smearing wet slickness across her face and sending it dripping down her chin and neck, combined with the beauty of giving Waverly exactly what she needed, helping her climb her own mountain of pleasure, all of it together flooded into Nicole’s libido like nothing else could, giving her strength and focus and a hunger that wouldn’t be sated until Waverly– </p><p>With a shuddering curl of her spine, Waverly clapped her thighs shut over Nicole’s ears, drowning out the sound of the cry Nicole had heard breaking from her a moment before. Nicole’s world shrank to the clit between her lips, the new wetness flooding into her mouth, to licking and pressing and rocking through Waverly’s orgasm. Her breath was just starting to run out when Waverly released her, tapping her forehead with her hand. </p><p>“Too much,” Waverly panted.</p><p>Nicole relented and sat back on her upturned heels, licking her chops like a wolf after eating her fill. In front of her, Waverly was sprawled, one leg still bouncing gently against Nicole's knee as she relaxed from her convulsive orgasm. One arm was thrown over her eyes. The dressing gown was still draped over her shoulders and arms, the thick cloth spread open to reveal the wanton feast of her body. Nicole’s alpha was <em> so </em> satisfied with the job she’d done, so thrilled that Waverly was limp and leaking happy omega scents for her.</p><p>Nicole's cock, fully hard and constrained inside her trousers, gave a needy throb at the sight. It felt like months instead of weeks since it had been insistently hard like this. Ignoring it, Nicole swiped off her neck, licking her fingers, sucking Waverly’s taste off of them and humming with pleasure as she cleaned herself. </p><p>A hand groped for her and Nicole took it, bent forward. "Hey," she murmured.</p><p>Waverly's eyes peeked out from behind her arm. "Hey yourself. That was nice." Her voice was throaty, low, and a little slurred. As Nicole let Waverly pull her down, Waverly chuckled at whatever she saw on Nicole's face. Then their lips met, and Waverly purred into Nicole's mouth. "I still taste good."</p><p>"You always taste good. Were you worried?" </p><p>“A little.” Another soft kiss, a giving, gentle meeting of their lips. “I didn’t know if it’d change right before my moon.”</p><p>Nicole licked her own chin, as far as her tongue would reach. “Nope. Not that I would mind if it did.”</p><p>Waverly kissed her again, then caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Nicole groaned as she felt the swipe of Waverly's tongue over the trapped prize. When Waverly released her, Nicole licked her way inside Waverly’s mouth, teasing and exploring, giving and taking with Waverly’s tongue as a willing, eager partner. Nicole settled herself down, carefully putting some of her weight down without crushing Waverly. Her cock was safely tucked out of the way, even if it was unduly constrained by her trousers.</p><p>Waverly broke the kiss and laughed. “Admit it, you wouldn’t do that if I was bleeding.”</p><p>“I would if you wanted me to.” Nicole had done that before, of course, and more. She didn’t have a problem with it. </p><p>“You are … not joking, are you?” Waverly ran a hand through Nicole’s hair, raking it back from her eyes. </p><p>The hand continued down the back of her neck and Nicole shivered, her hair standing on end. It felt so good to be touched. “I don’t mind a little blood.”</p><p>“You are so different than I–” Waverly stopped, then continued. “You are full of surprises, Nicole.”</p><p>Nicole felt the warmth fill her chest again, soft and gentle, and felt good about her choices. Waverly was happy with her. “Mm, do you want to go again?” The flex of Waverly’s legs around her waist gave Nicole her answer, and she winked cheekily. “Seems like it.”</p><p>“I do, but I also want something inside this time.” </p><p>Nicole saw a sly expression cross Waverly’s face and half-expected what she’d hear next. Still, the words made her throb with refreshed need as Waverly met her eyes and spoke.</p><p>“I want something thick and hot inside me, with a big knot I can squeeze around when I come. Do you have anything like that for me, Knight-Commander?” Waverly's voice was filled with the same heat and interest as the first time Nicole had heard Waverly talk about her knot, but now it was filled with confidence and subtle glee. Nicole liked the change, liked this easy, fond familiarity.</p><p>Nicole squeaked out a, “Yes,” and then growled the same word again, overcoming her throat’s tightness with an effort. “Yes. I think I have something that might work for that.”</p><p>“Oh, good. Do be quick about it.”</p><p>Nicole pushed herself up and went for her trousers, growling at the laces as she fumbled to loosen them. Waverly craned her neck, eyes interested.</p><p>“Like what you see?” Nicole asked, knowing from the swell in Waverly’s scent that the answer was yes. She knew that Waverly liked the muscle and scars, for some reason, and the activity would make them stand out in harsh relief. Nicole flexed a little, preening, posing for her omega.</p><p>“Yes, but I want to see more of you.” Waverly sat up, her stomach muscles tensing, and watched with interest as Nicole continued attempting to undress. Her eyebrow lifted, amused.</p><p>Nicole huffed, now trying to shift her trousers off of her hips. Kneeling wasn’t working. She stood up, shucking them finally and stepping out of them.</p><p>Before Nicole could drop back down to the rug, Waverly was up on her own knees, her hands on Nicole’s thighs. “Here,” she whispered, mouth perilously close to the rigid length of Nicole’s cock. “Let me.”</p><p>Nicole froze, her mouth went parchment-dry, and her cock twitched, bouncing a half-inch at the tip. “Ah, yeah, yes, sure, ye–” she managed to say before Waverly’s lips brushed the shaft, laying a kiss along the side.</p><p>Nicole realized that she might not survive this. Already, she was dripping, her cock as rock-hard as it got during her rut, and when Waverly took her in hand her toes curled in the bear fur underfoot. Then Waverly licked the head, lapping up every drop she could find. The contact sang down Nicole’s cock, making her throb with need. <em> Andraste’s tits. </em></p><p>“Nicole, can I put my tongue inside here?” Waverly asked, pulling with a move that drew all of Nicole’s attention to her cock. The soft foreskin moved with her hand, rolling over the head, picking up more wetness as it went. “Between the skin and the head, I mean.” She demonstrated what she meant by running a finger ever so gently along the boundary, making a little pocket. </p><p>Every sliding touch felt amazing, and the thought of Waverly’s tongue swiping along all that sensitive, protected skin inside? Nicole was nodding before the words were finished. “Uh, yeah, you can pull it up like you’re doing and there’ll be enough room. It’s sensiti–”</p><p>Waverly dipped her head forward again. Nicole almost bit her own tongue at the spike of sensation, Waverly’s hot, wet tongue sliding right up against her most sensitive part, exploring the sheathed curve that was always protected from direct contact. It was intense, intimate, and impossible to adequately process.</p><p>Nicole clenched her hands into fists, willing herself to stay still for this. She felt like her spirit was leaving her body, leaving her a statue to watch as Waverly took the head of her cock into her mouth and sucked. Waverly tongued inside again in a swipe along the inside of Nicole’s foreskin, then let it go, stroking with a gentle grip that let the foreskin roll down again. Nicole’s alpha side wanted to do something, anything, to break the tension, but this was too rare and precious for Nicole to dare alter with her words or hands. </p><p>Nicole breathed out a long, low sound, something between a moan and a whine. It felt so good, and the <em> sight </em> of Waverly, naked but for the robe still hanging off her shoulders, working her cock with her eyes locked on Nicole’s face was almost too much to bear. The fire cast flickering, gentle shadows on Waverly’s face. If this had been another night, when Nicole had perhaps come earlier and worked off some of the tension, she’d have lasted longer. But it wasn’t another night; Nicole's arousal had been wound into a coiled spring by licking Waverly to orgasm and this felt far, far too good. </p><p>Waverly pumped with her fist, using her mouth to suck gently at Nicole’s foreskin and running her tongue inside again, across the sensitive edges of the head. Nicole found herself losing control, rising mercilessly to an embarrassingly-fast peak with each scintillating wave of sensation sparking behind her eyes. </p><p>“Waverly,” Nicole breathed when Waverly scooted closer, one hand on her cock and the other to brace herself against Nicole’s hip. “I cannot, I am too close, I am–”</p><p>Waverly patted her hip, pulling her mouth away. Nicole’s cock was wet, cooling rapidly in the air, and Nicole couldn’t stop herself from a little jerk forward at the lost contact. “Nicole, I want you to come in my mouth.”</p><p>Nicole’s cock jumped at the words, she couldn’t help it, just the <em> idea </em> of that was too intense to ignore.</p><p>Waverly continued, “Just warn me. And here, you can touch me.” She took Nicole's hand and placed it on the back of her head.</p><p>Nicole nodded once, twice, again. “Right, yes, I can do tha–” Her voice choked off as Waverly put that clever, hot mouth on her cock once again. After a few more strokes, she realized she was biting onto her own lip hard enough to hurt, still fixated on the sight at her feet. “Fuck.” </p><p>The scents of them, their scent together, the rich intertwined pheromones of their almost-mating swirled around them and sank into her through her lungs, filling her with urgency and satisfaction in equal measure. Nicole needed this, to come inside Waverly’s mouth, to give her omega what she wanted, anything she wanted. </p><p>Waverly’s answering hum, the way her eyes dilated and crinkled at the corners in a smile as she slid her mouth farther onto Nicole’s cock was all that was necessary to tip Nicole over the edge. </p><p>“Now,” Nicole warned, and lost herself in the contracting, pulsing nexus of pleasure centering on her cock. She clenched, spilling into the slick, hot depths of Waverly’s mouth, watching in awe as Waverly’s throat flexed and moved with each pulse from her cock. Each breath stuttered out of her and her hips jogged forward against her will, but Waverly moved with her and kept swallowing, her tongue touching the hole to collect the last dregs as she pulled away.</p><p>Nicole’s knees wobbled, her body drunk on orgasm and exertion. She sank to one knee, then both, then sat back on the bear rug with an “oof” of effort.</p><p>Waverly laughed and crawled closer, pushing Nicole down. Nicole went willingly, laying back on the plush fur, but pouted at the laugh. “What?”</p><p>“You are cute after you come.” Waverly said, half-draping herself over Nicole and propping herself up on her forearms.</p><p>Nicole grumbled, not knowing how she liked being called cute. “I am not cute.”</p><p>Waverly smacked her chest with a hand. “You know what I mean. You get this cute little smile on your face.” In response to Nicole’s continued pouting, she insisted. “I like it when you relax. It’s nice to know that the big, immovable Knight-Commander has moments of softness.”</p><p>“I am immovable?” Nicole asked. She’d always cultivated an air of authority, it was true, but she’d made great efforts to always be accessible to Waverly. Was that how Waverly still saw her, even now? She didn’t know how she felt about that.</p><p>“Sometimes. It is not a bad thing, but sometimes I think you forget that you are a person with needs outside of your position.” </p><p>Waverly settled her chin to her crossed arms. Nicole could feel her hip pressing, not unpleasantly, to the length of her cock where it lay half-hard against one thigh. Waverly was straddling one of Nicole’s legs, her cunt making a warm wetness between them. It was comfortable and held the possibility of more, once Nicole’s body recovered. But first, she had more questions about this.</p><p>“I am responsible for the safety of everyone in this Tower. I do not think it’s wise to let myself forget that. Do you?” Nicole glanced up at the ceiling so far above them, the dusty beams made from trees that had been cut down centuries and centuries ago. They were steadfast, just as she was meant to be.</p><p>“I didn't mean that, not exactly.” Waverly said, her eyebrows knitting together in thought as Nicole looked back down at her. “I suppose I meant that I am glad you can have some moments when you can just be Nicole. You are always working, and as far as I can tell you only ever talk to others about professional matters. That kind of isolation has to be exhausting.”</p><p>Nicole went to respond dismissively, then stopped. It was something she really never thought about. There was so much for the Knight-Commander to do, so much responsibility fell on her head. But when she thought back to how she’d felt over the last few years, the constant stress, irritation, and denial of her own needs stood out in stark contrast to these more calm, collected days since Waverly’s heat and the settling of the bond. Even today's irritability paled in comparison to before. But. Even in this relaxed, conversational, and pleasant moment, Nicole was still solidifying a relationship that was an important part of her duties to the Divine, despite how it strayed past the strict boundaries that she’d initially set for it.</p><p>Nicole let that thought sink in and found it to be good. This was good for Waverly, and what kept Waverly happy had a much better chance of granting omega mages everywhere the right to keep their magic and their minds intact. And if this strange relationship happened to give Nicole opportunities to let go of even the tiniest edge of her stressful responsibilities, well. As long as it endangered no one, what was the harm?</p><p>“Mm,” Nicole said, sliding her hands under the edges of the open robe that was still, somehow, draped over Waverly’s shoulders to skate up Waverly’s sides. “It <em> is </em> nice to be able to relax. In fact, I could use some more relaxation.”</p><p>Waverly leveled Nicole with a mock glare. “You are deflecting.”</p><p>Nicole squeezed Waverly’s ass cheek with one big hand, tracing the other up her spine as the cloth dragged against her knuckles. She could explain that this was too deep a conversation for her orgasm-addled mind, but Waverly didn’t seem to be seriously irritated at her changing the subject. “Is it working?”</p><p>Waverly shivered against her, legs spreading to make closer contact with Nicole’s thigh. Nicole pulled her in, propping her leg up for more leverage. Waverly let her forehead fall to Nicole’s chest and hissed with the next rolling slide of her hips. </p><p>“Yes,” Waverly said, mouthing the upper curve of Nicole’s breast. “It's working.”</p><p>“How do you feel about that thick knot you were talking about earlier?”</p><p>“I want it,” Waverly said, her breath hitching as Nicole tensed her leg further. </p><p>Nicole felt her cock twitch at the words and silently blessed Andraste for her quick recovery. “That can be arranged,” she said, rolling them over so that she was once again positioned over Waverly.</p><p>“Fuck, yes.”</p><p>Nicole pushed herself up, gaze cast down at where their bodies met. Waverly’s scent filled her chest with happy pleasure, and the sensation only grew as Nicole caught her cock in one hand and smeared it in the thick wetness between Waverly’s legs. That image, of her cock right outside of Waverly, just beginning to breach her opening and slide inside, forced a growl out of her throat. Waverly whined, cocking a leg behind Nicole’s waist and <em> pulling</em>, insistent.</p><p>Nicole leaned down and kissed Waverly as she slid forward, smooth and unhurried but strong. She’d just tasted herself on Waverly’s lips when the kiss broke, both of them panting out a soft sound of meeting when her hips met Waverly’s thighs. <em> Maker, she’s so hot inside.  </em></p><p>Nicole reminded herself that it was Waverly’s moon. “How are you?” she asked.</p><p>“Good, ‘s big,” Waverly said, then nipped Nicole’s lip. “Not moving.” Waverly wiggled, a sensation that did wonderful, tingling things to Nicole’s cock. Then she squeezed down, hard and deliberate. It felt so, so good. But Nicole wanted to do one last tease before she started fucking her omega.</p><p>Nicole smirked, amusement leaking into her voice. "Is not moving a good thing or–"</p><p>"Nicole, I swear to Andraste, if you don't start fucking me this very inst–"</p><p>Nicole withdrew in a long, smooth movement and slammed back inside, silencing Waverly's threat with a definitive burst of sensation that forced grunts out of both of their throats.</p><p>“–ant,” Waverly finished.</p><p>"You feel so good," Nicole said, bracing her arm on the robe beside Waverly’s chest and pulling out, planning for an unhurried, slick rhythm. Her body was still reverberating from her own orgasm, loose-jointed and slack-muscled, but as she drove inch by inch back into Waverly’s cunt her body adapted, strengthened, hardened in all the best ways in all the best places. </p><p>"Mmf," Waverly said. "I like being filled with you."</p><p>The words made Nicole's hips jump, staggering her rhythm for a moment before she recovered. "I want to fill you up." She leaned forward and brushed her lips against Waverly's, feeling the soft warmth of them before Waverly let her in with a moan.</p><p>The slowness of it, the deliberate pace, felt so good, so right. Waverly's cunt squeezed Nicole's cock with every slick, slow push inside. Her mouth welcomed Nicole's tongue, teasing her own along it. Their breath mingled, flavored with sounds of pleasure. Wherever their skin met, along their chests and breasts and stomach and thighs, Nicole felt the warm softness of Waverly cushioning her, tingling along her skin. </p><p>Waverly's hand grasped her shoulders, her fingers clinging to Nicole's muscles, and her calves squeezed around her waist while she rocked her hips to help bring them together. They amplified each other, weaving their needs together until every move was right, and perfect, and whole.</p><p>Nicole pulled her mouth away with a groan and pressed her kiss-swollen lips to Waverly's cheek and jaw, soft, wet kisses that had Waverly's neck arching, turning to give her access. With another soft noise of meeting as she pushed completely inside, Nicole caught the lobe of Waverly's ear between her lips, feeling the shudder of Waverly's body, the whimper and clench around her as her teeth closed ever so gently. Waverly's hand tensed on her shoulders, pulling her closer.</p><p>"You like that," Nicole said, not a question, as she kissed behind the ear and inhaled the sweet scent of Waverly's hair. </p><p>"Yes, <em> Andraste," </em>Waverly slurred. "It is all so good."</p><p>"I like it when you call me Andraste," Nicole teased, rearing back to look at Waverly's face, sliding slowly back out. </p><p>"Blasphemy, Knight-Commander," Waverly scolded, turning her lust-dark eyes on Nicole with a smirk.</p><p>Nicole ducked down to kiss her, sinking in once again. "Mm, I like the way you taste."</p><p>"You're so good," Waverly said against her mouth on the withdrawal.  Nicole could feel Waverly’s fingers creep down and start moving on her clit, amplifying her pleasure.</p><p>"You deserve good things." The growing warmth in Nicole's chest, the signal of the bond between them, half-formed as it was, trickled down her spine like slow-moving honey, filling her stomach with pleasurable heat. "I like making you feel good."</p><p>Waverly's hand slid into the hair at the back of Nicole's neck, her blunt nails scraping the scalp. Her words were breathy as she replied. "You do, I love it when you make me feel like this, so full and wanted and, oh," her eyelashes fluttered and she huffed out a hot breath at Nicole's next thrust.</p><p>"What do you need?" Nicole asked, recognizing the signs. Waverly's skin was flushed pink, even in the firelight, and her cunt was slowly getting tighter and tighter. Nicole wanted to make her come first, wanted to experience Waverly's slow build to orgasm before she’d be caught up in her own.</p><p>The hand tugged at her head and Nicole followed to where Waverly's neck stretched to the side, opening a space for her at the junction of her shoulder and neck.</p><p>Nicole's bitemark was long-healed, but in the flush of sex the silvery scars were raised and purplish-red once more. Teasingly, she mouthed the skin above it, postponing the alpha-soaked ache in her teeth and the pulse in her core dragging her to latch on, to bruise Waverly’s skin with her teeth and mouth. Even though the half-bond had settled from the raw thing it was at first, moments like this still whispered to her that it could be whole. Nicole refused to let her instincts rule her, but the thought still occurred to her whether she wanted it to or not.</p><p>“Please,” Waverly said. “It's been so long, please.” </p><p>Waverly’s voice was thick with lust or some other emotion, and the words were enough to tip the balance of Nicole’s intent. Teasing licks changed into a fastening of teeth along the well-marked trail of Nicole’s bite, and as she squeezed her jaws shut she sank deep inside Waverly. <em> Mine</em>, she thought, and her alpha filled the air with the sharp cinnamon-vanilla meld of victory, dominance, and sweet affection.</p><p>“Oh, fuck, just like that,” Waverly said, voice strained. “I love it when we go slow. Nicole, you feel so good, I want to come around your cock before you knot me, can I?”</p><p>Nicole growled an affirmative, pleased with the request and the trust behind it. She withdrew her hips, keeping her pace slow, and chewed slowly and deliberately on the skin inside her mouth. The fingers that she felt on Waverly’s clit hit a new rhythm, fast and light, and Nicole began to feel the slow onset of Waverly’s orgasm in exquisite, drawn-out detail. </p><p>Waverly’s scent changed, deepening, becoming richer as her omega pheromones blossomed under Nicole’s ministrations. Waverly’s cunt clenched around Nicole’s cock as it slowly pushed back inside, slow and strong and gloriously tight. Underneath Nicole, Waverly’s body tensed and her calves pulled against Nicole’s back, lifting herself to press their hips flush together. Nicole growled again and clenched her teeth, digging in, and released another pulse of alpha pheromones.</p><p>“Ah, oh, <em> Andraste, </em>” Waverly said, her fingers flying on her clit. </p><p>A second later, Nicole <em> felt </em> Waverly’s orgasm hit, sucked in a breath through her nose at the insane, sweet pressure only to moan it out at the first rippling wave of muscle squeezing, rolling along her cock. Helpless against all that sensation, she humped into it, short and deep deep deep, hitting the end of Waverly and pulling back a bare inch to drop deep inside again. She had to fight the urge to knot Waverly immediately. With every thrust, Waverly choked out a moan into Nicole’s ear, unformed and guttural. Nicole released her bite a little, licked the saliva off her skin, admiring the bruises, and bit down again.</p><p>Waverly’s legs shook with the strain, betraying her continued orgasm even as her cunt continued its fluttering around Nicole’s throbbing cock. Then Waverly humped back into her once, again, too slow to match, but Nicole adapted within two thrusts and they united, sharing a groan at the wonderful force of it. </p><p>Nicole felt her knot begin to swell, the hot warmth of it forming its own pleasure center at the base of her cock. She was so deep inside that it was already there, already buried inside Waverly’s rippling, pulsating orgasm, and she couldn’t help but release a cry of pleasure through her teeth, against Waverly’s bruised, scarred shoulder. Waverly moaned for her and clamped down again, tighter this time, the pressure fighting the power of Nicole’s inch-long ruts but unable to stop them. As Nicole ground the thick bulb of her knot against Waverly from the inside, a spray of liquid gushed against her stomach, dripping down her thighs and intensifying the sucking, fluid sounds of their mating. </p><p>Nicole’s entire pelvis coiled with the sweet, almost painful pressure of her impending orgasm, sharpening all the points of pleasure in her body: her mouth, teeth aching and clamped down against her bite, tasting sweat and metal and floral pleasure; her nipples, scraping across Waverly’s skin with each growling, stuttering hump; her back, skin tearing under the icy claws of Waverly’s magical release; and finally her cock, full and throbbing, pulling her in like the drag of a raging whirlpool. Nicole stuttered on the edge, staring into the abyss of pleasure awaiting, and toppled over the edge with a howl of release that sent her pouring everything into her mate, her omega, her <em> Waverly. </em></p><p>The first pulse stole her remaining breath, freezing her entire body in a rictus of pleasure as she came in a hot gush deep inside Waverly’s cunt. Waverly moaned and her cunt rippled, squeezing and sharpening the next of Nicole’s ejaculations, making her throb and twitch with ecstatic release. Again, and again, they fed into each other, until each spasm was a weak twitch and a dribble. </p><p>Nicole released Waverly’s shoulder and licked the skin, tasting salt. Waverly quivered under her, her arms and legs splayed out, having lost their hold somewhere amidst their shared orgasms. The hand in Nicole’s vision was half-curled, limp, damp with melting ice and tinges of bright red blood. Nicole rested her forehead against the bearskin rug and concentrated on breathing. Her cock was a hot, thick root locking her to Waverly, and every shift of her body pulled at it in ways that would have been fascinating if it wasn’t so sensitive.</p><p>Waverly shifted, making a small noise as the tie tugged at them both. Nicole found strength somewhere deep inside and pushed herself up on both elbows to look down into Waverly’s face. Hazy, hazel eyes blinked slowly back up at her, and Nicole couldn’t prevent a goofy, self-satisfied smile from stretching across her face. Waverly had had a good time, Nicole could tell from her scent and the lassitude in her body, the ice on her fingertips. That made Nicole feel even better than her orgasm had.</p><p>“Hey,” Nicole said, and dipped forward to flick the tip of their noses together. Waverly’s nose wrinkled, then smoothed as Waverly’s lips curled into a lazy smile.</p><p>“Hey yourself.” Waverly’s voice was deeper than normal, slurred. Her eyebrows drew together. “I scratched you.”</p><p>“I liked it,” Nicole said. “I like when you lose control.” As she said the words, she knew how hypocritical they were, a Knight-Commander enjoying it when she could spark loose, uncontrolled magic out of a mage. She didn’t care. It was true.</p><p>“Oh. All right.”</p><p>Nicole chuckled at the slurred acceptance and then tensed as her cock throbbed, rutting her hips forward in helpless response as another small orgasm dragged a pulse out of her. Waverly threw back her head and made a small sound, her cunt squeezing down.</p><p>Nicole fought the weakness in her arms, trying not to melt into a heavy, limp puddle on top of Waverly. It was a tough battle, especially as she attempted not to jostle the tie too much. <em> If I think I’m heavy to hold up, I’ll be far too heavy to flop on top of her. It’s just until the tie ends. I can do it. </em></p><p>“Nicole, kiss me?” Waverly asked. </p><p>Nicole bent immediately to her lips, scenting the blended, amalgamated mixture of their mating as Waverly opened for her, invited her in. Nicole groaned and licked inside, cherishing each puff of breath, each sound Waverly made for her. This was so good, so right, so–</p><p>With a shudder, Waverly came again and Nicole followed her over the edge into another shallow orgasm. </p><p>Nicole blew out a breath when it faded. Waverly caught her lip between gentle, sharp teeth. </p><p>“I’m a mess,” Waverly said.</p><p>Nicole’s retort was swift and to the point. “Mmm, you’re my mess.”</p><p>“True. Want to clean your mess off in the tub?”</p><p>As if Waverly had known it was coming, Nicole’s knot slipped free and they both groaned. </p><p>“Yes,” Nicole said, “let’s do that.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Half an hour later saw them ensconced in bed, the fire banked to a warm glow and a new pot of Waverly’s tea resting on the table next to them. Nicole was wonderfully warm and loose, her body reacting to the day’s strain with a laxity that already had every blink lengthening. Nicole gazed contentedly up at the ceiling, one arm curled under her pillow to support her head. The other supported Waverly’s head where the smaller woman had curled against her side. Waverly’s cramps had not yet returned but she was prepared with the tea and with her stone resting back over her belly, tucked beneath underclothes and the rags Waverly insisted on wearing to protect Nicole’s sheets.</p><p>“Do you think the ice will block the ferry next week?” Waverly asked, her voice slurring with tiredness. </p><p>“Mm, Enchanter Mattie has been doing that route for years, I am sure she has got old man winter handled.”</p><p>“I hope Wynonna has written back. I wonder how the winter is going back home.”</p><p>“News from the Bannorn says it has been a fierce year, but Denerim says that the Waking Sea has been mild enough for some of the expatriates to come home. So it is hard to tell.”</p><p>A yawn interrupted Waverly’s next question, and then she murmured. “I just want them all to be safe.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Waverly said nothing further, her breathing slow and regular, and Nicole soon followed her into sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The calm before the storm.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>One week later</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole woke to a crash. She grabbed her sword and stumbled out of her bunkroom, barefoot, into bedlam. Hissing, seething streams of magic tore through the air, crashing against stone and flesh as half-dressed templars ignited into screaming, sprinting columns of colored flame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clutching her sword in suddenly-nerveless fingers, Nicole ducked under a sinister stream of fire and struck out with her talent on instinct, crushing the magic within the mage that sent it as he screeched and fled. Before she could chase him down, an arc of lightning crashed into her, sparking through her spasming, rigid limbs like hot needles raking down her bones, blasting her back against the wall and dashing her to the floor. Fighting her twitching muscles, Nicole crawled on elbows and knees, trying to summon stable, lyrium-invoked reality to protect her amid the onslaught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fellow templar fell to the ground next to her, eye sockets smoking as their contents dribbled oozing gore down his face. Somehow, Nicole found the strength to scramble forward, scraping her fingers raw on the flagstones as she fled toward the stairwell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she was running down the curved halls of the tower, a pitifully small group of surviving templars joining her in grim retreat from the screams of their comrades, swords – if they’d grabbed them upon waking, otherwise whatever weapons they could find – bared as they escaped from certain death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cacophony had faded somewhat on the third floor, but the stench of death was all around them. Bodies lay strewn on the flagstones, dark pools of blood and worse leaking from them to gleam sullenly in the insufficient light. As Nicole caught sight of the stairwell she felt magic, foul and dark, suffuse the pile of bodies lying in front of them. The twisted stack of limbs and staring faces twitched, melting, swelling into–</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Demon!” Nicole screamed, and the templars around her loosed their gutted stores of power in one desperate blast, some staggering into a fall as they did. Nicole didn’t look back, couldn’t spare the focus, as she sprinted for the thing, sword raised, and severed the appendage that reached for her. It was a mistake to get so close, a deadly error. Nicole watched in numb horror as the core of the thing exploded in a dozen directions, hooked claws rearing back to impale her and tiny protectorate behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An arrow sprouted dead center, over the single horrendous, glutinous eye, the brilliant green spark at its tip vanishing into bruise-black flesh. “NICOLE!” someone screamed, and Nicole threw herself down, back, away, as the enormous thing’s claws stabbed down at her unprotected body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wet, cold wave of slime and chunks of flesh dropped onto her, hitting her like an ocean wave. Nicole rolled, her eyes closed, but it went up her nose, into her mouth, her ears, a foul, rotten, septic deluge stinking of entrails and bile and rot that brought the meager contents of her stomach roiling out and onto the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on!” A strong hand grabbed the nape of Nicole’s neck and dragged her up while her gut was still attempting to force her stomach out through her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole staggered along, arm pulled along by another’s, and cleared her eyes of gunk in time to see the melted stump of the thing Shae’s arrow – for it had been Shae’s voice that had warned Nicole, and it could only be Shae who made such a shot, just as it was Shae who had gotten her walking again – had vanquished. It shivered, swelling again, but they were past and away before it could recover to attack them again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They collected the mage children in the apprentice quarters, a small herd of frightened pups all under the age of Harrowing, and herded them toward the great library doors, fighting a delaying action against the horde of shades and minor demons that tracked them through the carnage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just get to the great doors, go go go!” Nicole shouted, hurrying them along. “We cannot stay here, do not let your friends fall behind!” When a child stumbled, she scooped him up without pause. “Hold on, kid, we will get you out of here.” He wrapped his arms and legs around her, slime and all, and held on for dear life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Magic pulsed behind them, potent energy that tugged at Nicole’s senses. It had to be addressed, or they’d all be slaughtered. Nicole handed the kid off to another templar who took him without question. Nicole wheeled around, backpedaling as she raised her sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep running!” she ordered. “Go through the library!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wynne, gentle, gracious Wynne, Wynne of the silver hair and ice-blue eyes, of the constant calming words and reasonable arguments, marched toward Nicole, glowing with the strength of her magic. With her came three other adult mages, staves crackling with power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole shook off her disbelief and dismay – Wynne must have been corrupted along with the rest of them, was lost despite the coherency and familiarity of her form, the lack of twisted, dripping limbs – and gathered her strength, preparing to defend the fleeing group of her allies, scouring her body for the last, dying dregs of lyrium-fed strength she had left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Halt!” Nicole roared, raising her sword. “You will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> harm these children!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wynne’s magic dimmed, leaving the stately woman unadorned in the dim torchlight. “Don’t be ridiculous, Knight-Lieutenant. We are here to help!” The scolding tone was familiar, reminiscent of dozens of lessons Nicole had witnessed through her years in Circle Tower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly?” Nicole asked, praying that it was so as she trusted her gut and lowered her sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then come!” Nicole turned her back, renewing her prayers to Andraste, hope at this unexpected offer of aid filling her despite her roiling horror, and led the last of the free mages to safety – or so she thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a hurried conversation with the guards at the great doors, templars like her who were inexplicably pointing their spears and swords at the children, Nicole heard a barked command. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get her in here!” sounded in Greagoir’s gruff voice, and before Nicole knew what was happening she was unceremoniously dragged beyond the gate, fighting the arms pulling her through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, they are children, please, bring them through!” she yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing she saw before the great doors slammed shut, trapping the mages on the Tower side and the templars in relative safety, was Wynne, steadfast, casting a barrier at the door between the mages and the rest of the tower. The power of her magic hurt Nicole’s teeth, and she hoped against hope that it was enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knight-Commander!” Nicole ran up to Greagoir, dodging Knight-Captain Nedley’s warning look with the ease of practice. “Those mages were allies and children! Let them through, they may have saved our lives!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greagoir snarled to Nedley, “Keep your Lieutenant in line, Nedley!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gauntleted hands dragged her away, and she saw the tilt of regret on Nedley’s shaggy, unshaved mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole paced in the corner of the storage cave, seeing shadows seep along the walls as if alive, as Shae tried to comfort her. One of the templars, one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> templars, was just a room away as the medic saw to his wounds, his screams echoing from the low stone ceilings. A hand was laid on her arm, halting her circuit around the room as dark brown eyes met her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be fine, Nicole, the Knight-Commander is just being careful. He’ll let them through as soon as he’s sure the danger is past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole felt tears burn in her eyes, streaking down her cheeks. She snarled, wheeling on Shae. “They are children! There is no excuse! They are all going to–” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A body, soft and familiar, embraced her. “I know, I know, Nicole. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world tilted and wheeled, the clammy ichor on Nicole’s skin turning to hot blood streaming over her fingers as she tried to stop up the gaping holes in pale flesh, too pale in the red light for the normal, dark color of Shae’s skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shae! Shae, don’t you dare! <strong>Shae</strong>!” The woman in Nicole’s arms sagged, her weight losing all rigidity as consciousness left her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole screamed to the sky, to the burning city and the Archdemon above it, and charged into the Darkspawn horde.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nicole? Nicole, hey, can you hear me? You're all right, Nicole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole thrashed, something warm and heavy strangling her limbs as she fought them off. She was too hot, soaked with sweat, shaking with fear and rage and loss. She snarled and finally won free, swinging her fist to fight off whoever or whatever had trapped her here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nicole!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole managed to sit up, turning to the voice in the dark. “Shae?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Nicole, it’s Waverly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scents hit her, then, woodsmoke from the fire, the ever-present tang of the lake, fur and wool and … honey. Flowery purple lavender. The worried, spicy hint of rosemary. Not Shae’s soft beta musk, smelling of moss and sun-warmed stone, but Waverly’s rich omega pheromones. She caught the slightest hint of her own vanilla threaded through Waverly’s scents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waverly.” Nicole breathed. Nicole squinted in the dim light shining from the banked fire, casting Waverly in shadow, and could have sworn she saw the shadows move, but no. Just a trick of the fire. Nicole’s breaths began to even out, lessening the ragged tear of air rasping in and out of her lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Waverly. Who else would it be? Shae was long lost to her. Nicole had asked after her, again and again in the makeshift infirmary while the fevers and pain racked her body. When they cleared, when she was back on her feet, all Nedley could tell her was that Shae had requested a transfer and left Ferelden on the next ship to Orlais. Many templars had also left, of course, to be replaced by others from further abroad, but Nicole didn’t even have a note to remember Shae by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole cleared her throat, shaking away the memories. “Of course, Waverly. What … what are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand touched Nicole’s cheek, and she jerked back from the soft touch, startled despite herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry!” Waverly’s hand retreated and her voice softened as she repeated the word. “Sorry. I just woke up a few minutes ago. Calamity brought me. I think you were having a nightmare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole looked behind Waverly’s silhouette to where her dog stood, tail down and still, ears back in worry or penitence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then a bright, flickering flash lit up the room, followed immediately by a sickeningly loud </span>
  <b>KRAK-OOM </b>
  <span>that sent Nicole reeling back against the headboard, her heart beating fast, too fast. In the sound, she saw the wall shaken by the archdemon’s rage, people diving over the parapets to escape the sticky red fires pouring from its maw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh, Nicole, hey.” Waverly’s scent swelled into the room, an almost-tangible miasma of sunlit fields of lavender, deep purple and rich. It heaved into Nicole’s lungs with every panicked breath, warming her despite the chill of her sweat cooling in the air of her cold, wintry Tower chambers. “Hey, it's only a storm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calamity woofed softly, padding to the bed to lay her head on the covers next to Nicole. Nicole stared at her dog’s broad head, the short head-hairs brindled and shining in the banked firelight, and reached out her hand to scritch behind her ears where the fur was softest. Calamity’s tail began to wag and she groaned with the petting, pushing into Nicole’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Nicole said, sinking her fingertips deeper into Calamity’s fur and scruffing them side to side. It made the mabari’s ears wobble, and Nicole managed a curl of her lips. “Yeah. Just a storm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um.” Waverly drew back, lacing her hands together in a nervous dance that didn’t hide the shivers wracking her frame. Nicole realized that she was only wearing a night-shirt and a cloak, her toes bare on the stone floor. Waverly said, “Okay, well, I’m glad you are awake. I’m sorry for waking you, it seemed a good idea at the time, but I should go …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole didn’t want her to leave. Shaking away the dregs of the dream that still clung to her, the Fade’s cruel re-enactment of events long, long past, Nicole held out a hand. “No, you’re cold. Come here, Waverly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After she’d folded Waverly into her arms, and after Calamity had draped herself heavily over both of their feet, Nicole tucked Waverly’s head under her chin and kissed her crown, inhaling her sweetness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Nicole murmured, ignoring the snowy thunderstorm overhead as it splashed electric light over the room, shaking the stones with the resulting explosion of thunder. Strangely, with Waverly in her arms, Nicole wasn’t nearly so sensitive to the storm’s rage. “Thank you for coming, Waverly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The body in Nicole’s arms, tucked against her naked torso under the heavy furs, had almost stopped shivering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad I could help,” came the sleepy murmur, and cold feet landed on Nicole’s shins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole didn’t even flinch from the frigid touch, feeling that her warmth was the least she could provide. Then, she gave way to the exhaustion of her interrupted night of tormented sleep and let her eyes fall closed with a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nightmares didn’t return. At least, not that night.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>First day is approaching, but Nicole has a certain amount of spare time to spend indulging an old hobby. Also, some old injuries come to light.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning, Nicole trudged out onto the lake from under the huge terrace above, her cleated boots crunching into the ice for traction. Her morning had begun long before dawn, despite the disruption of the nightmare. Waverly had kissed Nicole’s cheek and departed through the hidden passage, already shivering from the Tower’s chill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Afterward, Nicole had sweated out the lingering shadows of events – and people – long past, practicing her forms until her arms ached with the strain, then had eaten and dressed for the cold. Her fingers were still shaking slightly when she’d laced up her trousers, but food and tea were slowly taking the edge off. Nicole had wondered, not for the first time, if she’d ever be stable on so low a dose. Still, it was always worse in the morning, and she’d left her quarters before temptation made a mockery of her efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winter's dawn sunlight shone brightly enough to make her squint against the reflection of snow and ice. The wind bit against the exposed slivers of her face, bitterly cold and fierce out here on the lake where no trees or hills blocked its path. Her body still ached from the night’s terrors and her morning’s exertions. But Nicole's garb – heavy, wolf fur-lined cloak; quilted woolen gambeson and surcoat; and gloves, boots and hat made of beaver, muskrat, and bear – blocked most of the cold, and her target was in sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were clusters of figures out here, each garbed much as Nicole was and huddled around dark circles in the ice. The night’s storm had blown most of the snow up in drifts against the old, broken bones of the once-bridge thrusting from the lake floor, leaving clear patches for their work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole breathed in the cold and breathed out her tension. There were no shadows of the past in this bright, white world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Knight-Commander," called one as she drew close, his words colored with the accent of Nevarra. "You picked a good day for it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole eyed the small pile of fresh fish already laid out on the ice, some still twitching. This group of three was making a good go of it. "Seems like, Ser Jerich."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole continued onward, looking for a less crowded hole.  She spotted one with only two occupants and headed for it, skirting the others so as not to disturb their fishing. As she drew near, crunching across the ice, the two figures turned to squint back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, Knight-Commander, welcome," came a familiar voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole looked down into the smiling brown eyes of Enchanter Gretta and nodded. "Enchanter Gretta, good morning."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, hello, Knight-Commander," the other fisher said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole started, then caught herself. She hadn’t scented Waverly on the air out here, and the bond lay quiescent. "Wa- Apprentice Waverly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly's green-edged hazel eyes smiled at her over a well-layered woolen scarf, shaded by a mittened hand. Their bond warmed in Nicole’s chest, perhaps strengthened by the knowledge of their proximity. "Gretta is teaching me how to ice fish. Come, watch me make a muddle of things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am sure the Enchanter is an able teacher," Nicole said, smothering her own smile behind the layers of wool shielding her face and neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I most certainly am!" said Gretta. "And you'll do fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole set down her burden, a small wooden block with a hinged lid, containing her line, hook, and various accoutrements. She knelt on the ice, retrieving her tools from inside, and then sat on the block and fished inside her surcoat for the cord holding her precious sack of worms fresh from the garden. They needed to be kept warm until it was time for their use as bait, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly jerked, the line going taut as she clutched at it. "Oh!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pull firmly but not too hard. Good, you’ve got it well-hooked! Try not to let the line go slack," Gretta advised. "Don't let it rub on the ice, dig your boots in and lean over a bit. No, don't wind it around your fingers, it might cut off circulation, use the winder, figure-eight. That way you can just tip it when it pulls too hard, give it some line to run with. That's it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole watched, her hands itching to help, as Waverly struggled to do five things at once. Yet she saw that Waverly's grip was good, she wasn't situated to fall into the foot-wide hole, and her boots bore cleats that would help her keep her balance on the slick ice. So Nicole merely watched out of the corner of her eye as she inspected her nettle-hemp line for fraying, tied the free end to her boot in case she dropped it while pulling a fish in, and readied her hook for the unfortunate first worm of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tickle of magic crept over Nicole’s skin. Nicole saw the way Gretta had anchored the end of the line in solid ice, since Waverly hadn't secured it to the stake intended for that purpose. For her part, Waverly was crouched over the hole, fighting fiercely for every inch of line she pulled out of the freezing water, tilting the bone bobbin to weave it into a secure grip. It was an impressive fight, but the fish was ultimately no match for Waverly’s tenacity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Waverly pulled her fish out – a sizeable walleye, scales shining in the dawn light as it wriggled on the line – she slipped, falling on her ass. Nicole looked up in concern, but relaxed as Waverly started to laugh. No harm was done, and Waverly hauled herself to her feet, exclaiming over her catch while Gretta showed her how to retrieve her hook from its mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole slipped her baited hook into the water, smiled to herself, and shifted, getting comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, Waverly slid her line back into the water, too. It looked to be baited with a bit of entrails. A good strategy, and one that would pay off if any big predators were looking for a morning meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Nicole’s surprise, after all the assistance she had provided Waverly in handling the fish and re-baiting her hook, Gretta began packing up her tools. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the Knight-Commander will be able to assist you from now on, Waverly. I plan to try out that spot near the old bridge ruins, I think the fish will be hiding around its base. Call me if you need me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wave, she crunched away over the ice, leaving Nicole alone with Waverly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, Knight-Commander, what brings you down here? I didn't know you pulled fishing duty like the rest of us." Waverly's voice was light but the bond emanated genuine interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relieved that the question wasn’t about her nightmares, Nicole gently played her line, little twitches that she had learned were enticing to the fish below. "Our fresh food supplies are scarcer in winter. More lines in the water mean more fish for meals or trade."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smoking huts on the terrace were always full in winter, Brigid's staff taking advantage of the lack of insects to replenish the stores of fish. The winter ice allowed restocking of the Tower's store of wood and other materials brought in by sled from Lake Calenhad Township over the ice. Fish was a valuable export for that trade, and the herbs and spices grown by the Tower's mages had made their smoked and oiled fish into delicacies that brought good trade even from as far as Orzammar and Denerim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mm, I see," Waverly replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole relaxed. It was unusual to speak to Waverly outside the privacy of her quarters, but it wouldn't hurt to share more of herself out here in the open. "Also, well, I like fishing. It is never good to spend all your time indoors, but in other seasons the business of the tower moves more quickly so I cannot spend hours angling from a boat."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly's response to that was warmth that seeped slowly into Nicole's chest. "A hobby, Knight-Commander?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Nicole replied. “How about you, Apprentice? Are you an experienced fisher, or is this your first time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole still hesitated to ask Waverly about her past. She didn’t want to open up the wounds of her arrival at the Tower, but she also wanted to understand more about Waverly’s life. It was a hard balance to strike,  Still, out in the open air like this, such prying didn’t feel as intrusive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ve fished from time to time. I was living near the sea, before I was abducted by mage hunters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole winced, regretting her decision to ask. Maybe it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> just as intrusive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly’s voice was matter-of-fact as she continued, however, and the bond didn’t waver despite the harsh truth she’d spoken. “Wynonna was always eager to move on to the next exciting thing, so fishing wasn’t something we did when we were children. And when she was off working, I spent more time with plants than with people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole found herself once again curious about Wynonna’s work. What did the aggressive, battle-worn, and clever woman she’d met while she was trying to break Waverly out of the Tower do when away from their seaside home? It was a constant puzzle. Still, prying too hard about Wynonna was guaranteed to be met with withdrawal – Maker, but Waverly guarded her sister’s secrets more carefully than her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she asked, “What did you grow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All sorts. Herbs year-round, the hardy ones that could withstand the winter during cold months, and vegetables in spring and summer. It was enough to trade with the village for supplies, though winters were hard on everybody. We also suffered from bandit attacks sometimes, so the villagers needed elfroot and others for healing. Plus the winter sickness. My trade worked well for us, at least until someone decided to tell the mage hunters I was there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole grimaced. Most of the mages brought to Circles were discovered while traveling or working surreptitiously in cities. A careful mage who grew herbs and only rarely used her gifts was an unusual target. Nicole had sent out quiet inquiries about the mage hunters who had brought Waverly to the tower, but they had disappeared once they left the ferry and no one had been able to identify them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who do you think told …” Nicole stopped as Waverly’s shoulders hunched slightly, their bond cooling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, nevermind.” Nicole cleared her throat. “How are you enjoying Gus’s garden?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Um, it’s quite nice.” Waverly said. “It’s a relief to be working somewhere that’s so warm. My feet and toes go numb from the Tower’s coldness, and the conservatory is a welcome relief. And I love planting and growing. It’s different, growing things for a purpose that isn’t staying alive from year to year, but that doesn’t make it less good. And I’ve always loved learning more about herblore – Gus’s work is fascinating and treads the edge of what we know about healing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole’s mind was filled with questions, both about Waverly’s life before the Tower and about whether she had found a way to requisition warm socks and mittens. But she had already pried too much this morning to indulge any of them. Instead, she changed the subject back to fishing, sharing something of her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You asked about fishing as a hobby a few minutes ago? Truthfully, I learned how to fish from my older brother, Felix, when I was young. I’m afraid I was only good at catching eels rather than proper scaled fish, however. I still remember Mother’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>face</span>
  </em>
  <span> when she saw each of us carrying a slimy dead eel in each hand, completely drenched from boots to hair. I was not the model of a nobleman’s daughter, even then. She also had me and my brother eat the eel for dinner, I think as a demonstration of some kind, but we loved every bite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memories of her older brother's sword-calloused teenage hands helping her bait her hook and cast her line, his cheers when she got it right, her mother's despair at her two drenched, fishy children, all of it tugged at Nicole’s heart. She’d gone fishing with Elissa Cousland, too, although the Teyrn’s family had been more restricted in their casual pursuits than her own. The memories were good, even after the events that had followed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caught by her recollections, Nicole wondered if her parents were planning to step down in favor of Felix and his wife, how Felix’s children were growing up. It had been so long since she’d had a letter from any of her siblings, she wasn’t even sure how many pups they had now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds like you were a troublesome child, Knight-Commander.” Waverly’s voice had mellowed further, and Nicole took that as a sign that perhaps she should let this awkward conversation fade on a good note.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was, though I would say that I was more a companion to rascals than a rascal in my own right. Felix and Elissa were always the true architects of my more daring adventures. When I was sent away to the templars, I mostly behaved myself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shae had become the source of Nicole’s mischief during their training together. Not for the first time that day, Nicole wondered where Shae was, how she was doing, why she had left. Nicole sensed Waverly’s interest through their bond, but her companion merely hummed in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence reigned for a time, both of them letting their thoughts drift. Voices traveled far, out here on the ice. The murmurs of the others fishing nearby swept past them, accompanied by the bite of the wind and the fresh, cold smell of winter ice over the lake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole felt a soft tap on the line and resisted the urge to yank. Unless it was a big-mouth, most fish tested the bait before they took it, and she'd learned patience. Another tap, then a tug. Then a firm </span>
  <em>
    <span>pull</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Nicole hauled back, setting the hook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first fish of the day was always the best. Nicole crouched over the hole, minding the tension on her line as she slowly, inexorably pulled her catch to the surface. At times, she let it have its way, tilting her bobbin toward the water and giving back hard-won feet of line only to take it again a minute later. Finally, her prize appeared under the shattered, floating ice that was slowly coating the water a foot deep in the ice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole shook off one glove then pulled and reached simultaneously, grabbing her catch by the gills with her bare hand and hauling it up to the surface. The chill bite of the water against her fingers was more than overcome by the warmth of victory, and the fresh, icy lake water was a nice change from the inkstains of her constant paperwork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brown trout, hefty and glittering, was slid into the box containing their catch after Nicole removed the hook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's so big!" Waverly exclaimed, mischief coloring her voice. "I'm surprised it fit through such a tight hole. You're really good at this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole choked at the innuendo. Apparently Waverly had moved on from Nicole’s awkward prying and back to banter. Instead of rising to the bait, Nicole settled herself back down and rebaited her hook, smiling beneath her scarf as she came up with a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's all in the wrist, Apprentice Waverly. Let me show you how to lure them close. You have to make them </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to swallow you whole ..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hours later, the tired fishers trudged back to the Tower for the midday meal, tugging their catch behind them on loaded, wheeled wagons. The mabari of the Tower, Calamity at their head, pranced alongside them, full of fish guts that had been snuck to them by the soft-hearted fishers after they’d come to visit in a big, panting pack. Behind them, far out toward land, the great, crumbling remnants of the old bridge that once connected the Tower to the shore thrust through the ice. At the Tower's main entrance off some distance ahead and to the left, the sturdy stone pier protruded into a protected arc of clear water, melted afresh each day to allow any incoming ships to moor after their journeys across the lake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First Day would be in a few days, and the next day the Icebreaker would bring goods and people back across the lake for the festivities. Hopefully, the augmented shipment of lyrium would be aboard, as well as communication from Nicole’s contacts. The Tower was out of harm’s way at the moment, but the politics of the Chantry continued in winter and it was wise to keep up with the gossip if Nicole wanted her Tower to remain safe from Grand Cleric Holda’s plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead of them, along the base of the Tower, a stone shelf allowed a safe approach from the ice on the shoreward side. The templars and mages filed up onto the stone, kicking off their cleats when they reached the layers of coarse sand sprinkled atop the icy rime, and walked to the great gates which creaked open at Nicole's knock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Knight-Commander," the Templar on duty said, saluting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole saluted back. "Ser Ehrig." She passed him and sighed as the relative warmth of the Tower washed away the clean cold of the icy lake. The scents of damp stone, soldiers, metal, and books filled her nose, accompanied by the faint trace of magic and lyrium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dogs flooded inside, meeting the few Tower cats who had casually draped themselves in nooks and crannies of the entrance hall, no doubt waiting to sneak behind the wagons of ice-cold fish and steal the small ones (or big ones - Nicole had seen one tiny cat handle several times its weight, straddling it as it held its head high and waddled proudly off). Several were pregnant and the vermin in the Tower didn't keep them completely fed. To be truthful, Nicole had a soft spot for each and every hardy Tower animal. They were a comfort to templars and mages and also hard workers, thus deserving their portion of the food supply in turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, that was cold!" Waverly exclaimed from behind Nicole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tugging her hat and gloves off and beginning to unwind the heavy layers around her neck, Nicole turned to see Waverly still bundled up, scarves just pulled away from her face, dancing from foot to foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It’s called ice fishing, Waverly, of course it’s cold," Gretta teased, her own face flushed as she performed the same automatic unwinding of outer layers that Nicole was doing, revealing the light brown skin on her hands and face. "Now you get those heavy things off, they are trapping the cold inside at this point."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole didn't expect the twitch of alpha possessiveness that flooded her chest at the friendly order, nor the wave of pheromones that leaked through her normally-solid control. She stepped back, trying to corral them, but saw the look on Waverly's face as she scented the change. Waverly's eyes, shaded in browns in the torchlit entry hall, flicked to Nicole.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don't react</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nicole thought at Waverly, hard. The bond wouldn't let thoughts through, of course, that was a myth, but Waverly should be able to sense something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly's focus switched to her friend and she started to shrug off layers, warning Gretta in the same teasing tones, "You had better be right, or you’ll have to tell Gus you turned me into an icicle."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole stalked away, not responding even as a young alpha templar nearby sniffed the air. Let them think she was just testy – after all, she was the Knight-Commander. Who were they to question her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored the urge to just drag Waverly into the secret passage nearby and warm her up. That would be completely inappropriate ... Even if it was incredibly tempting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Nicole moved up the Tower, choosing today to skip her morning rounds in favor of the growl in her belly and the substantial pile of work waiting for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that afternoon, after Nicole had tended to the still-substantial pile of paperwork requiring her attention, someone tapped on Nicole’s door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come,” Nicole called.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus pushed open the door. Nicole set her quill down and rose, nodding at her colleague.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello, Knight-Commander," Gus said, sweeping inside with a large tea tray in her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's this?" Nicole asked, moving around the desk to clear a space for Gus's burden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I missed our morning tea, and I felt that we should perhaps catch up on a few things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Foreboding danced down Nicole's spine. "A few things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus set the tray down firmly on the desk and looked up at Nicole, arms braced on the desk to either side of the tray. Nicole felt pinned down, which was ridiculous. Gus was half of her size and Nicole was a templar. Yet, here they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Waverly asked me about Shae this afternoon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh." Nicole's foreboding crystalized into a frisson of dread. "It was just a dream, I woke suddenly. I can explain to Waverly, you don't need to be concerned about her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus stood upright, hands on her hips, the wrinkles beside her mouth deep. Her voice was as no-nonsense as it ever became when she said, "I'm not worried about </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nicole. Some things need to be discussed in the light of day. Come, put the kettle on, let's get some tea in our hands before we speak of things past."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole did so, watching silently as Gus spoiled Calamity with a treat from the kitchens. Gus had been pushing for Nicole to speak of the Blight ever since they'd gotten home after Nicole's recovery. It seemed that now was the moment Gus would put her foot down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were settled with tea and a few small biscuits, Gus sat back in her seat and looked over her teacup at Nicole. “Tell me about your dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole eyed the crumbs at the bottom of her teacup from the biscuit she’d dipped in it, swirling to watch them move. Sweetness soured on her tongue at the memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in the Tower, how it happened when the revolt started. You remember.” Calamity was sitting under her elbow and Nicole scritched the big brindled head with her free hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus nodded. “But your experience was different than mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus, two dozen mages, and nine templars had barricaded themselves inside one of the second floor assembly rooms during the revolt. They had had the advantage of counting a templar among their number who had perfect knowledge of the Litany of Andralla, the one true defense against the mind control possible with blood magic. All of the templars should have known it, but as evidenced by the swath the blood mages had cut through their numbers, knowledge wasn’t application. The group had been questioned by Greagoir after the Hero of Ferelden had freed them, so Nicole was aware that they’d successfully resisted the urging of demons and blood mages – former friends and trainees – who had tried and failed to get those inside to open the barricade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole took a deep breath. “I was asleep when it started. I woke up to the uproar and saw templars getting torn down in the halls. I managed to get together a small group of templars and we fled. It was … chaos. So many of us were gone already, and we were all under-armed and injured. Shae got us past a major demon. We found some children and other mages, including Wynne, but then Greagoir,” Nicole hears the snarl in her own voice, “wouldn’t let the mages in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus sipped her tea, waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was in the storage caves, yelling about Greagoir, and then Shae hugged me and …” Nicole struggled past the knot in her throat. “Then I saw her in Denerim, with all those wounds, before I, um,” she waved a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you unwisely threw yourself at an ogre and got stabbed twenty-four times?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clink of china heralded Gus’s next question. “So, would you say that you’re reliving some of the worst parts of your life in your dreams?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely,” Nicole said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you still see things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole didn’t look at Gus. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus sighed, the breath flushing steam out of her cup and into the air, ruffling her salted dark curls. “Nicole, you are a woman grown and the Knight-Commander of this Tower. I’ve known you for years. What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> I mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole grimaced. “Sometimes.” Sometimes the shadows moved with the firelight and she saw something inhuman and monstrous in their wake or she caught flashes of movement around the Tower’s smooth, circular halls and tensed inexplicably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel like you are always on watch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever felt so scared that you can’t breathe, like you might die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... yes.” Those had been shameful moments, though it had been months since the last time and they’d always happened where she could get to a secret passage or her office in time to have some privacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know why it happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you ever feel like you’re not inside your own body? Have you ever lost time without knowing why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Nicole shifted in her seat, beginning to be impatient with Gus’s prying. What was the point of all this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you avoid certain places within the Tower that remind you of the blood mage revolt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so. Look, I understand that you are concerned about my dreams, but why are you asking all of these questions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus looked at her with sympathy writ large in the crooked tilt of her mouth. “Nicole, what do you know about battle-sickness?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole’s heart thumped once, twice. “It ruins soldiers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus rolled her eyes. “It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>treatable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You templars act like it’s a weakness to have mental wounds as well as physical, but it is both to be expected and something that we can help with. But until now, until Waverly noticed your nightmare last night, you,” and here she pointed at Nicole with one accusatory finger, “wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. You have battle-sickness, just like most of the templars, mages, soldiers, and civilians who went through terrible things in the Blight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t be appropriate to have a battle-sick Knight-Commander in charge of the Tower,” Nicole hedged. “I would have to step down if it were known.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus waved a dismissive hand. “Who with the experience to run this Tower </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> go through the Blight, Nicole? If you wanted to step down that would be one thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole shook her head. Stepping down wasn’t her intent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. You are the best Knight-Commander I’ve ever met, even as young as you are, and it would be a shame to abandon all of the progress the Tower has made because you couldn’t work on your problems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole sensed a trap. “What do you mean by that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus spread her fingers in a gesture of appeal. “If you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> work on your battle-sickness, it won’t go away. It will simply harden, wrapping itself in mental scar tissue. It will influence your decisions and you might not be able to adequately handle emergencies. Keep in mind, I firmly believe that one of the things that made Greagoir so inflexible was battle-sickness from his days fighting skirmishes with Tevinter magisters. Many of your templars have been working on their own issues for years, just as my mages have. It will be hard, but you can make it so these memories are just painful instead of sources of worry and discomfort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole sipped her tea, letting tannin-rich bitterness shrivel her tastebuds. If she thought about it too hard, even having conversations like this with her First Enchanter would get her struck from her post by any Seeker or Chantry authority she could name, except perhaps her benefactor. This was not how their relationship was supposed to work. The Knight-Commander was supposed to make decisions, and the First Enchanter was supposed to advocate for the mages. Her duties did not include informing the First Enchanter of every dark thought and reaction she had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, morale in the Tower was higher than it had ever been. Templars and mages were working well together, both within and outside the Tower’s boundaries. Trade was flowing. Having an experienced First Enchanter who worked well with a Knight-Commander with fresh ideas was working, despite the changes that had come when an omega mage was brought to the Tower. Perhaps this, too, would be a move toward a better way of doing her duty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do I have to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, first, let me talk to you about how thoughts, feelings, and actions all relate to each other …”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Why yes, cognitive behavioral therapy was invented in Ferelden, how did you guess?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nicole navigates a tense interpersonal conflict between a templar and a mage and finds a worrying secret.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waverly found Nicole again that evening. Nicole had had troubling news: a templar had interfered with a magical working and had almost struck a mage that day, only stopped by her patrol-mate. The mage was shaken and the templar was downcast and contrite in the cells. </p><p>Nicole paced the stones of the library, inspecting the charred circle where the conflict had taken place.</p><p>Despite their best efforts to maintain peace and harmony, both Nicole and Gus knew that the confined nature of winter in the Tower frayed everyone's nerves and made conflict more likely. Squabbles requiring arbitration were common enough – and, generally, mild enough – that they had set up templar tribunals and mage committees to handle disputes particular to each population. Naturally, Nicole and Gus together handled the more prickly subject of mage-templar conflict. To the credit of everyone in the Tower (and to Nicole's and Gus's relief) it occurred rarely and usually involved a miscommunication or misinterpretation of the rules regarding templar and mage conduct with one another.</p><p>By all accounts, however, this templar had sorely overstepped her authority. Ser Sandra was one of the new recruits, the beta from the Free Marches, and thus still on her probationary period with an older templar as a duty partner. They had been assigned to patrol the lower library, an easy and low-engagement position that should have built her tolerance for extremes of boredom and also exposed her to the sensation of constant, low-level magic as the apprentices practiced on the library floor with their teachers. It was good for every templar to get a sense for normal magic, so that when it came time to identify blood magic or fight alongside mages decisions could be made on where the true threat lay.</p><p>But something had gone badly wrong, and now Gus was fielding questions from her Senior Enchanters while Nicole went to the area where her templar had threatened and physically restrained an innocent mage-child. Mages in the Tower never received physical discipline. Although many Fereldan parents practiced it (Nicole herself had been paddled more than a few times) the risks of accidentally sparking a mage's subconscious defenses were significant and would cost more than any lesson was worth. Hitting a mage unprovoked was unheard-of under Nicole’s authority.</p><p>There wasn't any substantial evidence of the incident here, of course, but Nicole wanted to see the place, fix it in her mind, and also wanted to be seen taking this as seriously as she was doing. Her authority was only as good as the trust between templars and mages held. Paying personal attention to Ser Sandra’s actions was part of Nicole’s demonstration to the mages that she held their interests to heart.</p><p>Her duty was clear. It was apparent that Ser Sandra had grossly violated her orders, and the punishment would be swift and decisive. But still, something seemed ... odd about the entire story. Nicole wondered if there was a factor she was missing, something that might explain her templar's behavior, but she also recognized that that feeling might just be wishful thinking and self-delusion.</p><p>The bond with Waverly tugged, rousing Nicole from her thoughts. She turned and watched as Waverly came around the corner. She was dressed in warm chestnut robes with a deep green shawl covering her shoulders, protecting her from the chill that penetrated stone and flesh alike. No amount of burning wood would heat the public areas of the Tower to a comfortable temperature in the nights of winter.</p><p>"Hello, Knight-Commander," Waverly said. "I heard you were here."</p><p>Nicole didn't bother asking who had told her. It didn't matter, for one thing, and she was not displeased. "Hello, Apprentice Waverly." </p><p>Nicole had not interviewed Waverly – both Nicole and Gus were unable to decide if their bond would have put undue pressure on Waverly, so they’d opted to avoid the issue entirely – but she had been a witness nonetheless. A statement, freely given, would be useful.</p><p>"I would appreciate your perspective on the incident, if you would be so kind?" Nicole asked, formal words drying her tongue as she saw the twist of Waverly's mouth at the word "incident." She wanted to smooth it away, to ease this strange tension between them, but the air was thick with the differences in their positions and status. No doubt there were many eyes upon them despite their apparent solitude.</p><p>Waverly nodded, walked to the nearby table, and sat. Nicole mirrored her, armor creaking as she filled the wooden seat. </p><p>Waverly began. "I would be happy to share. Seth is thirteen and Enchanter Leila's apprentice. He's a bright, curious child, and prone to completely harmless, non-magical practical jokes involving butter."</p><p>Nicole wanted to ask about the butter, add a bit of levity to moderate the bite in Waverly’s voice, but Waverly was already moving on. </p><p>"Seth was practicing his cleansing spells today, under the supervision of a senior apprentice. He was casting a rune-locked working when Ser Sandra stepped across the working and grabbed his arm."</p><p>Nicole caught a trace of char in the rosemary of Waverly’s scent. Anger. </p><p>Waverly grimaced. "Rune-locked spells are reinforced for a reason. Once the capstone rune is added, they are incredibly stable, but until then any disruption causes a magical backlash to the mage and the surrounding area. This one was small but noticeable. Seth was hit with the backlash and so was Ser Sandra, but I believe she took it as an attack."</p><p>Nicole nodded. She'd heard all of this before.</p><p>Waverly detailed the templar's reaction and how Ser Sandra's partner, Ser Perry, had stepped in and separated them. </p><p>When Nicole had interviewed him, Perry had been … confused. A veteran of the Blight and the mage uprising, he knew every mage and templar by name and was among Nicole's most trusted knights. If she hasn't needed him to look after a probationer for a few months longer, she'd have promoted him before now. He'd said that the spell seemed fine, but he'd felt a headache start as it was built. Ser Sandra had acted suddenly and without clear cause. Such things happened now and again, especially when the templar had recently consumed lyrium, but it was Nicole’s entire purpose to prevent “such things” from being an excuse instead of a drive toward action.</p><p><em> Yet another reason to cut down</em>, Nicole thought.</p><p>Waverly came to the end of her reiteration, staring at the scorchmarks where Seth's spell had backfired. Thoughtfully, she said, "It is strange. I did not want that spell to be completed.”</p><p>Nicole sat up. This was curious. She asked, “What do you mean?”</p><p>Waverly stood, her chair grating on the flagstones, and walked over to the rough circle of soot, scuffed by many feet. </p><p>“I felt something when Seth started his spell. It was not the usual sensation of magic being done,” here she waved her hand over her chest, the apparent location of such sensations, “nor was it something I have felt before. My head felt full, and I almost asked Seth to stop. But I knew the spell, and I knew it had to be finished, so I just put it aside and continued my reading. Then Ser Sandra charged through.”</p><p>Nicole shifted, turning in her chair so she could watch Waverly pace around the area. The mage scuffed the stones with a toe. </p><p>"Do you think that strange feeling had something to do with his spell?"</p><p>"No, he was doing almost everything right. A small amount of clumsiness is all right as long as the runes are pre-written correctly. We could inspect them to see, but unfortunately that option was lost the moment the spell ignited." Waverly bent, picking up a tiny scrap of burned parchment to demonstrate.</p><p>Nicole sighed. "Why is it always fire? Why not ice?"</p><p>Waverly flashed a conspiratorial smile at her and winked, the expression gone as soon as Nicole saw it. Nicole immediately realized what she'd said – the mabari on the tapestry Waverly had scorched during her heat was still well and truly gelded – and chuckled under her breath. <em> Perhaps Waverly is not angry with me, but Ser Sandra. </em></p><p>Turning her attention back to the floor, Waverly frowned. "There's something … odd here."</p><p>Nicole stood up, waking closer. "What is it?"</p><p>Waverly stepped out of the circle, then back inside. She rubbed her hands on her arms. "It's cold, just here. Colder than normal."</p><p>Nicole approached, and as Waverly stepped out of the circle again she stepped inside. Nothing changed. "I don’t feel it." She sneezed, once, then again, eyes beginning to water as her nose ached mightily. One step out, and the urge to sneeze was gone. "I may be allergic to it, however."</p><p>Waverly eyed the circle. "What if I recreated the spell? It doesn't take much time."</p><p>Stepping out of the circle, Nicole turned to inspect it. Seth had been lightly burned, and Ser Sandra had suffered worse. Her protective instincts clamored to keep Waverly safe. <em> But</em>, she told herself, <em> if the spell is completed, it won’t explode. </em> "Would it tell you anything?"</p><p>The shrug Waverly made was noncommittal. "Only one way to find out."</p><p>A few minutes later, Nicole stood next to the table as Waverly placed rune-laden parchment on the flagstones. </p><p>"Now, please do <b>not</b> interrupt. I like this shawl." Waverly held up one hand, murmuring, and Nicole felt the familiar, cool rush of magic flow through the air.</p><p>The headache came out of nowhere, fully-formed and throbbing as if she'd been staring out at the lake ice through an entire sunlit day. Nicole blinked slowly, trying to process the sensation. Her stomach roiled slightly. Swallowing back nausea, she tried to focus on Waverly.</p><p>Brow knit with concentration, Waverly turned to each rune in turn, her hand extended over them as blue-white magic shone from their surfaces. No distress was apparent on her face.</p><p>The light was too bright for Nicole. She closed her eyes against it, seeing the afterimage against her eyelids, and her headache throbbed into a new pattern as it took up residence right behind the bones of her forehead.</p><p>Then there was a rushing sensation and everything – the headache, the pressure in her sinuses, the rushing in her ears – just vanished. </p><p>Cautiously, Nicole opened her eyes. Waverly was standing in the patch of soot, eyes closed, and a clean, humming wreath of energy surrounded her. It tugged gently at her hair, teased the fringe on her shawl, and then slowly faded into nothing.</p><p>"Well, I didn't feel anything–" Waverly cut herself off and started forward. "Are you all right?"</p><p>Nicole nodded, then suddenly tilted her head up, trying to catch the trickle of warmth escaping one nostril. Her fingertips came away bright red.</p><p>Glowing fingers pinched her nose at the bridge, pushing healing into her sinuses. It was so brief that the sensation only shocked down her spine for a moment, but Nicole shivered nonetheless.</p><p>Nicole mopped up the blood with her handkerchief. "Thank you." Then she looked down at Waverly, who was standing, arms crossed, a puzzled look on her face. "What?"</p><p>"It physically affected you!" Waverly’s  gestures were somewhat more dramatic than her words. "You should have stepped away."</p><p>"I am well," Nicole said. "And it confirmed that something unusual probably did happen when Seth started that spell. Did you feel anything?"</p><p>"No. The cold is gone now, however." Waverly looked confused, then concerned. "What if it wasn't a problem with the spell itself – maybe this happened because it was done <em> correctly</em>."</p><p>Nicole realized that this was something that she should have considered earlier.  "You think there was blood magic, <em> here</em>?" </p><p>They both looked around at the library. If there was blood magic here, it was not reflected in the spines of the many tomes of magical and non-magical learning looming above them into the darkness. However, it didn’t help Nicole’s sudden alarm that in late evening, talk of blood magic only deepened the pockets of blackness provided by too-plentiful shelves and too-sparse magelight. </p><p> Waverly said, “Gus told me that the library had been inspected with every tool available to mages and templars before apprentices were allowed to set foot back in its halls. It couldn’t have been here, right?”</p><p>Nicole nodded. "Not here, not in the <em> library, </em>but perhaps something was left in the Repository." She pointed down at the floor.</p><p>It had been years since a blood mage stalked the halls of the Tower, but the ones that had done so during the Blight had been powerful and ruthless. Had a trap been left here all this time, right below this unassuming patch of floor? If so, had it taken a cleansing spell activated in this precise spot to activate its defenses?</p><p>Truth be told, the treasury was a hoard of odd magics and relics, each stranger than the last. The lyrium storage was set apart, locked by doors that only unlocked themselves for the Knight-Commander or First Enchanter, but the rest of the collection was accessible to select curators who studied the artifacts and maintained the wards keeping the old magics in check. Former generations of templars had kept the treasures within locked away completely from mage hands, but Knight-Commander Nedley and Nicole had decided that the contents were better catalogued and cautiously researched than left to moulder in the dark.</p><p>Nicole pulled out her key ring as she moved through the stacks, arcing around the circular path toward the treasury doors, counting her steps and direction. Blood magic in her Tower more than warranted her attention, and if they had disturbed some old evil she wanted to intercept it before it could slink away.</p><p>"I'm coming with you," said Waverly.</p><p>Nicole nodded. If she had the option of Gus instead, she would bar Waverly's path, but since Gus was currently busy crafting the mages’ response to Ser Sandra’s actions, Waverly was the mage she trusted best.</p><p>Nicole almost missed a step at the revelation that she <em> trusted </em> Waverly. It was dangerous to trust any mage, but doubly so an apostate omega she had bound to herself. But unfurling that complicated weave could wait until she was alone.</p><p>The heavy doors to the treasury creaked open into a dark, damp spiral staircase. Nicole picked up a globule  of glass from a shelf next to the door, thumb resting over the engraved rune on its surface, and it flared into gentle light. The echo of her headache sharpened around the edges.</p><p>The light shifted as Waverly did the same, and then they began to descend. Behind them, the old dwarf-wrought door shut itself and locked. </p><p>The treasury was sunk into the rock of the Tower's base, much like the storage caves. But unlike the storage caves, every wall was meticulously squared and edged with dense stone and mortar, free of any leaks and cracks where moisture and the denizens of the ancient caves might work their way inside. Ancient magics and forgotten dwarven marvels had been an integral part of the Tower's construction and even now guarded its structures, sustained by hundreds of years of mage reinforcement. Nicole was quietly sure that the Tower could fend off any army that might turn its way, not that she would say such things where the Grand Cleric’s spies could hear.</p><p>When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, Nicole snapped her fingers once. Magelights set into the ceiling brought cool, gentle light to bear on a stone corridor that stretched ahead of them, a single wooden door set with metal barring their path. It was a matter of common knowledge among mages and templars alike that this, the Victim’s Door, contained 277 planks of wood, the number of the original Order of Templars. Nicole found the concept laughable, since she had been assured by Dagna the Arcanist that all of the treasury’s doors had been made by the Alamarri centuries ago, preserved by magic and cunning craftsmanship from the depredations of time, the lake’s moisture, and the creatures of the caves. But people would make up their own legends as they may, and it hurt nothing to let the myth continue.</p><p>With a gesture, Nicole’s ring warmed and the door swung open. She could feel Waverly’s questioning stare, but declined to explain. Better some things were left up to the imagination, and the entrance rigamarole most mages and templars had to perform served a valid purpose. She simply didn’t have to follow the same rules they did. Ahead of them, the corridor took a sharp right at a barred, well-reinforced door. </p><p>Nicole took the corner, answering Waverly’s unspoken look as she inserted her key into the second locked door that barred the hallway ahead of them. “That was the phylactery chamber, and I do not think our culprit lies in there.”</p><p>No, inside that chamber, accessible only to Nicole and Gus, was the Tower’s supply of lyrium and the collection of phylacteries belonging to the Tower. The blood of every un-Harrowed mage was locked away in magicked glass and glowing faintly in close proximity to their sources, ready to be sent to Denerim whenever the mage succeeded in their Harrowing. Well, the phylactery of every mage except one. Waverly’s phylactery was safe in Nicole’s quarters, locked behind a safe only she could open. Such was the nature of Nicole’s arrangement with the Divine’s Nightingale – if Waverly were ever to need a templar’s attention, there was only one templar who could go after her.</p><p>Nicole shook herself from the contemplation of <em> that </em> fate and continued down the hall. Magelights sprung up ahead of them, casting shadows from statues of Andraste put there by templars long dead and upon carvings of unknown shapes, monsters, and people far, far older than the Maker’s Bride. Suits of armor stood guard at each corner and doorway, harboring old enchantments ready to spring to the defense of the secrets kept here.</p><p>This pathway never failed to make Nicole nauseous. Although the Tower above (that she had almost died in, years ago) did not carry the low-ceilinged dourness of the treasury, the way the magelights flickered on ahead of them made shadows seem to move from every statue and carving and suit of armor. Nicole kept her eyes averted whenever possible, but she <em> knew </em> that if she just looked, she’d see eyes and mouths and the roiling oilslick wrongness of a shade that <em> probably </em> wasn’t there.</p><p>Nicole fought back her rising gorge. “I think we were above the Repository or one of the workrooms. We’ll start there.”</p><p>Nicole led the familiar way through the cold, mage-lit rooms and hallways. They passed through libraries filled with dusty tomes and store-rooms packed with valuable goods, all opening for Nicole’s key.</p><p>In one room, Waverly stopped. “Are these meant for mages?”</p><p>Nicole turned, eyeing the three ancient cells encased in spelled metal bars and holding barren cots. They had been floored with straw and had soiled buckets in them once, when Nedley had taken over the Tower after Greagoir’s death. Now they stood barren, empty and scrubbed clean, their doors open. Only the chains bolted to the center of each cell, each with a metal collar at the end, betrayed the brutality of their original use.</p><p>“Not under my command,” Nicole said, then added, “The null rooms we have made upstairs are much more comfortable and more private.”</p><p>Waverly shook her head. “They are still cages.” </p><p>Nicole said nothing and turned to continue. After all, Waverly was correct. </p><p>At last they reached the Repository and the rooms surrounding it, the homes of the Tower’s collection of forbidden, secret, or ancient magical items and tomes. At this time of the evening, the few Senior Enchanters who were qualified to do research here were absent, probably eating or ending their day in their own laboratories. </p><p><em> Or yelling at Gus about templar overreach</em>, Nicole thought.</p><p>Nicole stepped into the wide room, casting her gaze over the gilded books, objects of power, and statuary within. Four great, carved pillars supported the ceiling as if they were corners of a central square, with a long, wooden table centered between each pair of pillars and the wall. The surfaces of those tables were painted with circles of containment for each object upon them, spaced at regular intervals. Shelves, small tables, and great urns were dotted against the wall and between the pillars, every surface warded similarly to secure, contain, and protect the objects upon them.</p><p>Nothing seemed out of place, but there was an odd scent to the air, something not borne of lyrium or the lake. Nicole sniffed again. Metallic, singed, almost sulfurous ...</p><p>"Blood magic," Nicole breathed. She hadn't encountered it since the Blight, but you never forgot that coppery stink. Honestly, she hadn’t believed it would be. Her chest tightened, ice coiling up her spine. "It was here, somewhere."</p><p>Waverly stepped closer. "Where?"</p><p>Nicole held up one hand, spinning in a slow circle. "Your spell may have purified it, but these artifacts have been handled and inspected many times over the years by mage and templar alike. Be cautious. Either the blood magic was hidden extremely well or it is new." That last thought was not a pleasant one. Already at the mere <em> scent </em> Nicole felt fearsweat begin to slick down her spine.</p><p>From behind them, a voice said, "I may be able to assist your search."</p><p>Nicole set her hand to her sword, spinning to face the new threat as she felt the burn of Waverly’s magic ignite beside her. Then, seeing the culprit, she shoved the foot of steel she’d drawn back into its sheath with an aggrieved sigh.</p><p>“Nicole, what is that?” The flames that had sprung to life around Waverly’s hands dimmed but did not go out.</p><p>Nicole eyed the statue. It was constructed of light-colored stone, carved to represent tall, willowy human dressed in stone robes that were carved to denote wealth and rank, if of a style alien to Ferelden. “It purports to be the imprisoned spirit of an ancient Tevinter magister.” </p><p>Truly, Nicole believed that it was a spirit of the Fade – the dimension of dreams, spirits, and demons that lay next to the world of reality – who had been bound to this statue, not a transformed once-living being. But after years of study, none of the mages could decide where the truth of the matter lay. And the statue insisted it was once human.</p><p>The statue lit from within, the orange color of its glow seeming to amplify its indignant response. “It <em> indeed </em>! I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia, once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius. Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord’s house. I was assigned one duty, to tell my ill-fated prophecies to passersby outside my lord’s fortress.” The spirit’s voice was feminine, overlaid with echoes and sighs in hazy, ethereal harmony. It also sounded irritated, most probably at Nicole’s tone.</p><p>“Yes,” Nicole interrupted. If she didn’t, they would hear the spirit’s entire fabricated life story and never hear why it had decided to speak to them. “I know. Why do you speak to us?”</p><p>“You seek the perpetrator of blood magic, templar.” The title was delivered in a snide tone, but Nicole could tell that the temptation of engagement was too much for the spirit to adhere to prejudice. “I was once a great and powerful mage, skilled in the arts of blood and suffering. I sensed your culprit, some time ago. Their purity was tainted by the stink of demons, sadly.”</p><p>Nicole eyed the protective runes and chalkwork surrounding the statue’s base. The sigils were intact, unaltered by time or interference. “All blood magic is tainted by demons. That is what blood magic <em> is</em>.”</p><p>“Your understanding is colored by the lies you have been told. Like all magic, it is the wielder who determines its course.”</p><p>“Blood magic purportedly made you into a statue, so can you truly–” Nicole stopped herself, gritted her teeth, and redirected the conversation. This thing loved to debate, and giving it any more attention would simply result in increased attempts to engage the Senior Enchanters later. “This debate is meaningless. You have information about the blood mage?”</p><p>“Yes.” The voice warmed from school teacher lecturing to almost-pleasure. “This was a subtle working, indeed. Not one of the mages or templars who have recently spent time within this chamber sensed its presence.”</p><p>Nicole put the spirit’s words in context. “So, that means this blood mage was here a long time ago.” A wave of relief filled her chest. Her Tower was not harboring a blood mage. They would not have a repeat of the events at the beginning of the Blight.</p><p>“Perhaps so, perhaps not. After all, what is time to an <em> it </em> like me?” There was an air of mischief in the statue’s voice, a malicious edge of teasing that told Nicole that these vagaries were intended to enact payback for Nicole’s attitude. </p><p>Waverly interjected, “Advisor Zenovia, you are knowledgeable about such things. Did your wisdom enlighten you to the spell’s purpose?”</p><p>“Ah, now that is an important question. Who are you, young seeker of knowledge?”</p><p>“My name is Waverly, Advisor Zenovia.”</p><p>“Manners, at last!” The statue’s voice almost hummed with pleasure. “I can almost forgive your dour companion her insolence.”</p><p>Nicole almost growled. This ancient, entrapped spirit enjoying Waverly’s company was very low on her list of preferred sequelae from this day’s adventure. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Waverly glanced her way with an expression that stilled her tongue.</p><p>“The Knight-Commander carries many weights upon her shoulders, Advisor Zenovia, and those burdens can make her quite brusque.”</p><p>“Indeed. However, grace under pressure is the mark of true nobility.”</p><p>Waverly stepped on Nicole’s foot and Nicole cleared her throat, capitulating to the ridiculous necessity of being polite to a pile of <em> possessed</em>, carved rock. “Ah, Advisor Zenovia, I apologize for my insensitive words. Would you share your knowledge with us?” </p><p>“Hmph. Adequate, although you should work on your tone. Very well. This was a spell of passage, to make seemingly solid stone give no more resistance than water. Even the ones who so brazenly intruded in their drive for freedom and blasted apart the wall missed the signs, which is a pity. The artifact they used enchanted with a delicate technique that has long been lost, and it was gutted afterward. They could have simply used the blood magic door and avoided such waste.”</p><p>Nicole knew of this incident. Jowan, a blood mage, and his Chantry Sister lover had broken into the Repository just before the mage rebellion, blowing a hole in the side of the wall to get at his phylactery and enable his escape. At the time, the First Enchanter had thought Jowan was a lone blood mage, but it turned out Uldred had engineered the entire mess. Jowan had turned up in Redcliffe, poisoning Arl Eamon on the orders of the traitor Teyrn Loghain in an attempt to destabilize the nobility. Jowan had disappeared after the Hero and her companions had cured Eamon with (believe it or not) the Ashes of Andraste. </p><p>Much of what had happened during the Blight belied belief, but Nicole had seen an Archdemon ravage Denerim so … she was more inclined to believe than not. And the Ashes were enshrined near a town named Haven in the Frostback mountains to the west. Already there was a steady pilgrimage to the site in warmer months, with miracles occuring more often than could be claimed by other holy sites.</p><p>Nicole brought herself back to the statue’s story with a question. “And where was this spell?”</p><p>“It was placed quite near me at the time, by a powerful and rather skilled blood mage, although I have since been moved,” here her tone was aggrieved, “despite my express protestations. Alas, I lack the sense of sight I had when I was mere flesh, but moving me did not take long. You should find it within this room, if the dregs of it have not yet fled your cleansing. Well done, by the way, Mage Waverly. You have an uniquely powerful gift.”</p><p>“Thank you, Advisor.” Waverly saids. As Nicole glanced at her, her eyes were already searching the walls. “We will now beg our leave.”</p><p>“Very well, find your spell. You must come speak to me another time, young mage. There is much I could teach you, given time.”</p><p>Nicole suppressed another growl. If she had her way, no one would be speaking to this statue much at all. Too much dark magic could hide in the depths of its imprisoned mind, and it boasted of its knowledge. Her templar training was telling her in no uncertain terms that the statue had to be dealt with, if it had been tempting mages with forbidden teachings..</p><p>The broken spell was not hard to find, in the end. They walked along the walls, shifting furniture back from the surface and carefully looking, smelling, but not touching. Waverly stopped and pointed to the ground at one carved, embellished archway in the stone. Dark brown dust piled at the corner of flagstone and wall. </p><p>Nicole said. “Yeah, blood magic, sapped of all power.” Nicole had read of it, but had never seen it – most blood mages she had encountered were new, desperate, and templars endeavored to make sure they were unable to mature into the true depth of their power.</p><p>Nicole knelt, rubbing the stuff between her gloved fingers. It smeared, and she sent a flash of her templar gift into it, making  reality bloom into place around her. Blood magic didn’t react to templar gifts like normal magic, not exactly, but if one poured enough power into the working it could be dispelled. This was clearly inert. </p><p>With a grimace, Nicole wiped her glove on her handkerchief and tucked it away, standing and turning to her companion.</p><p>Waverly said, “So, there was a spell here to allow passage for blood mages through this wall. Why?” </p><p>Nicole paused. Something the statue had said was cast in a new light, considering the wall they were standing against. She rapped her fingers on the stone. “The phylactery chamber is on the other side. We rebuilt the wall that was destroyed by Jowan right before the blood mage uprising, but this must have been another way in.” </p><p>At the mention of the destruction Waverly nodded. She’d no doubt learned some of what had happened in the Tower at that time.</p><p>Waverly asked, “And blood mages were sneaking in there? Why?”</p><p>“There is a great deal of evil that blood mages can do with someone’s blood.” Nicole thought back to all of the apprentices that had joined the mage revolt and felt her stomach twist. “It is possible to control others’ minds, and perhaps even their bodies. Who knows how many of the mages who revolted were not acting under their own free will.”</p><p>“That is horrific.”</p><p>“Yes, it is.”</p><p>“Did anyone, um.” Waverly bit her lip and Nicole sensed her dismay through the bond. “Did any of the mages who revolted receive a trial, Nicole?”</p><p>Nicole shook her head. “Elissa Cousland cleared out the blood mages and rescued dozens of mages and templars that had barricaded themselves in rooms and closets. She also saved a number of mages that the blood mages had taken to the top of the Tower. No one who attacked her lived, as far as I understand it, and no one who she rescued turned on their compatriots. There was a Rite of Annulment that could have been implemented but, well, we all went to war under the Wardens’ banner and then Greagoir died.” </p><p>Nicole didn’t mention that she’d been the one to carry the Rite back to the Tower. She’d intended to burn it in front of Greagoir’s face, but since they’d arrived after Warden-Commander Elissa had extracted Greagoir's oath and First Enchanter Irving's promise to go to war against the darkspawn armies, he hadn’t even asked her for it. She’d destroyed it the moment she had a chance. Still, it was a point of shame that she’d even touched the thing. </p><p>Waverly’s eyes widened. “Then I am very glad Warden-Commander Cousland came to the Tower.</p><p>Nicole nodded, heading for the doorway. It was too late and too cold to speak of such things below ground, and they had solved the mystery of the repellent working that had incited Ser Sandra’s violence. “She did what Greagoir refused to do, what many of us wanted to do. She saved the Tower and every soul within it.”</p><p>Lying unspoken between them as they retraced their steps was the understanding that such a thing could happen again. <em> Not under my command</em>, Nicole thought, and hoped it was true.</p><p> </p><p>⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️</p><p> </p><p>Gus listened to Nicole and Waverly's explanation of the evening's events, drumming her fingers on the worn table centered within her personal laboratory. Pots, vials, urns, and instruments crowded the shelves around all four walls, and bundles of herbs hung from the rafters far overhead. The entire room smelled of dried herbs and, faintly, Gus's beta scents, all earthen tones that never shone through the constant accompaniment of her healing craft.</p><p>"Blood magic has been active all this time, and none of us noticed?" Gus said.</p><p>Nicole resisted the urge to drum her fingers on the table in sympathetic agitation. "Apparently. There's no sign that it was in use, at least since the Blight, though that statue may have been making the entire story up out of whole cloth for all we know." </p><p>"Ser Sandra was responding to some sort of ... blood magic proximity protection spell? Or perhaps the instability of the old spell reacting with the cleansing. Hmm."</p><p>Nicole interjected. "Although she was affected, she should not have responded with violence. Both Ser Perry and I experienced strange but tolerable symptoms during the cleansing spell's casting, and there was no compulsion inherent in it."</p><p>"Mhm. What do you think, Waverly?"</p><p>"Me?" Waverly looked from Gus to Nicole, nerves apparent in her face.</p><p>"Yes, you have a level head and were a witness. Should Ser Sandra face punishment as if she committed violence unprovoked? Or is the strange magic effect ameliorative to her sentence?"</p><p>Waverly’s brow knit, then cleared."I … think that if Ser Perry and Knight-Commander Haught could control themselves in the same situation, then Ser Sandra  acted of her own volition and with more force than necessary." </p><p>"I agree." Gus looked up at Nicole. "I would recommend full punishment and reeducation."</p><p>Nicole nodded. This was to be expected, and while she wished Sandra had been able to control herself, the safety of the Tower and all within it required there to be clear and enforceable rules of conduct. </p><p>"I concur. She will receive punishment, will be under increased oversight, and will be educated on her errors." Nicole stood and bowed to Gus. "I would like to formally apologize to the First Enchanter for the actions of my templar and request that this matter be settled with her punishment."</p><p>Gus similarly stood and bowed. "We are in agreement, Knight-Commander." Her manner changed, relaxed. "Would you like to see Seth?"</p><p>"Please."</p><p>Waverly interjected. "What just happened?"</p><p>Gus responded even as she swung her cloak over her shoulders for the cold walk to the Healing Chamber. "While the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter work together, we oversee two very different societies: one military, one academic. A few mutual formalities go a long way to smoothing over differences in communication style and motivation."</p><p>"But you're friends."</p><p>Nicole and Gus exchanged a long glance. Nicole opted to answer this question. "Yes, but the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter are not friends. They cannot be friends and yet pursue the conflicting needs of their respective responsibilities. It is the goal of the First Enchanter to always push against templar control, while it is the role of the Knight-Commander to always mandate oversight of mage affairs."</p><p>Nicole led the way to the door but stopped, hand on the latch. "This matter can be discussed with others, all except for the role of the statue and the blood magic. Make no mention of either in words or writing. This was simply a mishap of magic, a decaying enchantment on a nearby book interacting with an active spell and a templar who was too green to control herself. Justice will be done. Are we agreed?"</p><p>"Yes, Knight-Commander," Gus said.</p><p>Nicole fixed her gaze on Waverly. Something flashed in her eyes, rebellion maybe, but it was gone when Waverly said, "As you wish, Knight-Commander."</p><p> </p><p>⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️🛡️⚔️</p><p> </p><p>The Healing Chamber was set deep within the Senior Enchanters’ wing of the tower, and thus it was only a short walk from Gus’s laboratory. When Nicole opened the door, the fresh scent of clean linens and herbs swept out on a current of warm air. Inside, quiet ruled the room, full of beds separated by curtains that had been suspended cleverly from the rafters far above through means mundane or magical. The attendant at the desk beside the door looked up at their entrance, eyeing Nicole warily but nodding as soon as she saw Gus and Waverly, tension seeping from her shoulders. </p><p>Seth was sitting up in his bed in view of the door, his bandaged hands supporting a small book as a magelight hovered nearby to provide reading light. He, too, tensed when he saw Nicole approaching, visibly attempting to shrink into the pillows propping him up. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Knight-Commander,” Seth said, wide eyes begging Nicole to understand. “I didn’t mean to, please don’t make me tranquil!”</p><p>Nicole halted, spreading her empty hands. “You did nothing wrong, Apprentice Seth. Apprentice Waverly and I figured out what happened, and you have nothing to apologize for.” </p><p>Seeing Seth relax, Nicole approached and sat in the bedside chair. “I owe you an apology for the behavior of Ser Sandra. She should have never done what she did today. I am sorry you got hurt, and I promise that my templars will not hurt you again.”</p><p>“Oh,” Seth said. “Why did she grab me?” He moved as if to touch his arm, but seemed to think better of it before his bandaged fingers hit his robes. “The spell couldn’t be stopped like that.”</p><p>Nicole told the story she’d composed. “There was an old, decaying enchantment on a book in the library. Your spell interfered with it in a strange way, making people nearby feel bad. Ser Sandra mistakenly thought it was your spell making her feel bad, but she shouldn’t have grabbed you. Then your spell exploded and again she reacted badly. I will personally make sure she knows never to do that again.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Seth uncurled his fingers with a grimace. Nicole saw little spots of pink on the inside of his bandages where his burns had seeped through the cloth. “Explosions aren’t very fun.”</p><p>Gus spoke, stepping close. “Come now, Seth, it’s time for you to go to bed.”</p><p>Nicole took that as her cue to leave. She stood, still moving slowly as not to startle the boy, and with a nod she left the ward, stepping into the colder air of the curved hall.</p><p>Waverly caught up with her as she headed for the Great Hall and the steps to the templar quarters. “What will happen to Ser Sandra?”</p><p>Nicole slowed her steps to match Waverly’s stride. “Her probation will be lengthened, she will receive twenty lashes, and her lyrium ration will be cut. Her movements will be restricted to templar-only spaces and she will be taken out of the lottery for the more enjoyable Tower duties until she can quote the Tower’s templar code to my satisfaction.”</p><p>They walked quietly for a few moments while Waverly digested that.</p><p>“Why is this so much harsher than Templar Hardy’s punishment?” A thread of uncertainty wound through the question.</p><p>Nicole halted entirely. Sandra’s punishment would be public knowledge, but the intricacies of Nicole’s own thinking were not something to discuss in the hall at twenty-two bells. “Come, let’s speak in my office, I will explain.”</p><p>After Nicole had fed the brazier, heating water for tea, and Waverly had greeted Calamity (who was shamelessly <em> wiggling </em> while licking Waverly’s fingers and rubbing against her legs), Nicole sat at her desk and steepled her fingers.</p><p>“When you arrived at the Tower, you were an apostate mage. Ser Hardy was a junior templar remanded to the Tower for the remainder of his training, but he had not yet sworn to me as his commanding officer. If I had punished him like I would punish someone who was under my command, like Ser Sandra, and as if he had harmed a mage under Gus’s protection, like Seth, it would have been more remarked-upon than it was.”</p><p>Waverly’s puzzlement was clear, even as she scruffled Calamity’s neck fur and warded off the giant dog’s eager kisses. “Why does that matter?”</p><p><em> Had I not explained the situation with Grand Cleric Holda adequately? Perhaps not. </em> Those had been a tense few days early in Waverly’s stay at the Tower.</p><p>“Although I wish that the Tower was fully able to make its own policies about mage-templar relations, I have pushed as far as I am able without garnering a visit from the Seekers of Truth. The Grand Cleric in Denerim is hostile to me and my goals with this Circle of Magi, and she has spies that report on my actions. Just as I am concealing your omega status and the binding from the Fereldan Chantry’s eyes for as long as possible, so too do I minimize signs of conflict between mages and templars.”</p><p>“And the old blood magic we found.”</p><p>“Even so. Hardy’s punishments were in line with his status outside my command structure and yours as the time of the offense.” Nicole hesitated; she didn’t want to remind Waverly of Hardy’s behavior, but she wanted to provide adequate context for her decisions. </p><p>“If I had punished him for the threats he had made against you, I could have been harsher – there are provisions banning templars of any command from conduct of that sort – but I understand why that would have been bad for you. Of course, now that he is under my command and sworn to the Tower, his <em> frequent </em>infractions gather more weight and more severe punishments, which will make sense to the eyes of any auditor. There must be order and oversight in any Circle of Magi, and I have done my duty to both. It is a careful balance.”</p><p>The water was ready. Nicole poured it into the teapot, savoring the steam and the hiss as it seethed over the dry tea leaves.</p><p>“I understand.” Waverly sat back in her chair as Calamity ambled over to finally greet Nicole. “I hear some mages wish to declare independence from the Chantry.”</p><p>Nicole’s head snapped up at that. “Tell me nothing that you have heard in confidence. I cannot lie for mages if questioned under my oath.”</p><p>Waverly waved a hand. “It’s all common knowledge. The Aequitarians support staying under Chantry leadership, and most people think that will prevail over independence. I must say, I never expected there to be so much political maneuvering in the Circles of Magi. But I simply wanted to ask you your opinion.”</p><p>Ncole made a thoughtful sound. “It’s a dangerous notion, independence.”</p><p>At Waverly’s raised eyebrow, Nicoe shook her head. “Look for instance at the Tevinter Empire. Mages rule there, a hierarchy of magical talent determines whether people wallow in poverty or rise through the ranks of the elite. Slavery, indentured servitude, trafficking of people as if they were livestock, all is permitted and legal given the right number of coins find their way into the correct palms. Tevinter templars are toothless, decorative, and useless nods to a Chantry subservient to the mageocracy and helmed by a man, of all the ridiculous ideas.” </p><p>Nicole shook her head, pouring the tea into two plain mugs, handing one to Waverly. </p><p>Waverly tapped her spoon against the rim of her cup. “I agree that the Tevinter Empire has some truly heinous practices, but surely you cannot blame every one of them on mages? Mages fought alongside Andraste herself before the Chantry or Templar Order were even established.”</p><p>This was true. The Tevinter Empire, far to the north, formerly ruled all of Thedas with an iron fist. Long ago, the Maker's Bride Andraste had rallied Ferelden around herself and pushed them back. She'd been martyred for her actions, and that inspired the First Exalted March against the Tevinter Empire. Eventually, that movement had distilled itself into the Chantry and the Inquisition, an institution to combat blood mages and rogue magic that had gradually split further into the Templar Order and the Seekers of Truth, the arbiters of mage and templar malfeasance under the Chantry’s aegis. Not a lot was known about whether mages had been press-ganged into the first Exalted March or had joined by choice, but they had fought.</p><p>“True. There is more nuance to the example of the Tevinters than I originally included in my statement. Let me add legal and open blood magic to the list of Tevinter’s greatest sins. It is an example of what the lack of powerful oversight does to mages – so great is the temptation of blood magic’s power that even the most well-meaning mageocracies will eventually fall to it.”</p><p>“Do you truly believe that the fear of templars is what holds most mages back from the practice of blood magic, Knight-Commander?” Waverly’s magic stirred, rising, extending a single glowing tendril to pick up the honey pot and bring it to her waiting hand. </p><p>The use of her title and the magic was a challenge, but Nicole didn’t let herself respond in kind. “In most cases, blood magic arises in extremis. There is great need, and a demon with an eye on the mortal world is ready to fill that need for a price. These blood mages are unstable, however, and quickly fall to become abominations or die to let a demon through from the Fade. </p><p>“But sometimes, a mage finds a cleverer demon who teaches blood magic as an art, or a mortal teacher of the same. They become stable practitioners of unspeakable depravities, using living people as fuel for their power. These are what need to be hunted down and exterminated, and they are why the Templar Order exists. I do believe that the call of such power is too tempting for most people to ignore.”</p><p>“If you wanted, you have the power to kill every mage in this Tower, Knight-Commander. Is it merely the fear of repercussions that holds you back?”</p><p>Nicole saw where this was going, but she went along with the thought experiment nonetheless. “Of course not, it would be evil.”</p><p>“Then why do you credit mages with less self control than you yourself have?”</p><p>“Because blood mages <em> have </em> killed thousands.”</p><p>“And Teyrn Loghain engineered the deaths of King Cailan and every Grey Warden in Ferelden at the onset of a <em> Blight </em> because he wanted to rule unopposed. Yet no one locked him away when he first picked up a sword, worried that he might one day be a regicide.”</p><p>Waverly set her mug down on the corner of the table and stood. “Something templars and the Chantry have never understood is that they as institutions have now cumulatively committed more atrocities against mages than mages have ever done. You systematically imprison us, allow us to work <em> for </em> you, deny us freedoms, and kill or make us Tranquil when we don’t obey your rules. We cannot have <em> families</em>, Nicole. We cannot marry, and even if we circumvent marriage, no pups have ever been left with their parents in a Circle of Magic. Templars steal them away and raise them to know only the Chantry. Life out in the world is hard, yes, but at least it is free, at least we’re free. Research materials and academic compansionship are no substitute for a family.”</p><p>Nicole swallowed bile. Of course, she knew all of this, but coming from Waverly’s lips it seemed far more brutal than it did when spoken of in contrast to mage atrocities.</p><p>Waverly wasn’t finished. “You chose to give up the possibility of a family to save omega mages – but none of us will ever get a choice to have a family of our own.”</p><p>Startled into scrambling for words, Nicole let out the first words she could think of. “Do you want–”</p><p>Waverly cut her off with a curt gesture. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It matters that generation upon generation of mages have been imprisoned and used by the Chantry. You told me to tell you nothing in confidence about mage independence, but I want you to know that I will always use every power at my disposal to get the Circles to declare independence from the Chantry. It’s the only way to free us.”</p><p>Nicole said, “Waverly. Independence <em> will </em> start an Exalted March. The Chantry and the Templar Order, <em> my </em> Templar Order cannot afford to let that happen. The Circles would be wiped out. Please don’t let the extent of your passion for freedom force,” <em> me to kill you, </em>“the Templar Order to march against mages.”</p><p>Waverly huffed. “While I appreciate that your stewardship of the Tower leads to less abuse of mages than other Circles of Magi, I can’t help but think that you’ve never truly thought about whether what you’re doing is <em> right</em>.”</p><p>Nicole wet her lips with her tongue, searching for something to say. She could sense that Waverly was about to storm from her office, leaving these unanswered recriminations in her place. </p><p>“Waverly, I <em> have </em> thought about it, many times. But suppose I were to throw every ounce of power I have at this problem right now? It would not budge. Yes, Teyrn Loghain was not locked away, but he was balanced by two other Teyrns who were only felled by treachery. For every madman with a sword there are others who will take up weapons to stop them. For a blood mage, templars are all that stand between innocent people and slaughter. </p><p>“I cannot offer you a solution, but I can say that this Circle, what Gus and I are building, the clinics, patrols, trade, and magical research? This is an experiment that tries to fix the errors of the past. But if I move beyond my limits, this tower and everyone in it will be purged by the Seekers. I have a sword hanging over my head, and it will fall on everyone if I fail.”</p><p>Waverly stared down at her, lips drawn into a grim line, but she wasn’t leaving. There was hope.</p><p>Nicole offered an olive branch. “There are societies in which mages and non-mages live in harmony, and maybe one day we can move toward that in Ferelden and beyond. But those societies have strict rules for their own mages, and they do not follow the Maker or Andraste. It is something we have to consider.”</p><p>“You mean the Dalish elves. They have not fallen to blood magic and attempted to conquer Thedas.” Waverly huffed out a breath and sat, slumping slightly, and reached for her tea. A trickle of magic sent steam rising from it once again.</p><p>Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. The rosemary of Waverly’s anger was still potent, but she hadn’t broken off the conversation in rage. “The Dalish only allow two to four mages per clan by their own traditions. They exile mage children who are either too unstable to train as a Keeper or are too numerous. ” </p><p>Nicole knew this because the exiled children were found by mage hunters or templars and brought to Circles on occasion, although these children raised in the freedom of Ferelden’s wilds did not do well when forced to stay within four walls.</p><p>“Oh. I didn’t know that.”</p><p>“Few humans know or care about the ways the Dalish manage their clans. The Templar Order has studied their mages, but that is often the extent of my knowledge. Just as we only know enough about the Avvar to know that their spirit worship and intentional possession practices mark them as people to be avoided at all cost.”</p><p>“Sorry, I must have misheard you. They do <em> what</em>?”</p><p>Nicole grimaced. The thought of mages choosing possession made her teeth ache. “Yes. Fereldan and Orlesian survivors have described camps placed where the Veil is weak. Spirits are welomed into people’s homes and worshipped as their ancestors. One report said an Avvar shaman consumed herbs that enabled a spirit to possess him, so he was glowing from within and speaking with many voices. Templars are expressely cautioned not to enter the Frostbacks in certain areas. Avvar warriors have a history of attacking them on sight for the ability to threaten their spirits.”</p><p>“Then travel through the Frostbacks seems … unwise. At least you’d be at a lesser risk of possession if you entered their camp, what with all the lyrium.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Oh yes. It’s different than the power mages make for ourselves, after all. Even when we supplement with lyrium potions, we use up the lyrium and return to our base state. Templars, um, accrue it. It would absolutely interfere with possession.”</p><p>“And you know this about possession how?”</p><p>“Oh, all mages study demons so we know what not to do, how to be safe in the Fade. Don’t look at me like that – it’s like how templars study lyrium addiction in order to avoid it, I’m sure.”</p><p>Nicole stayed silent, taking another sip from her mug.</p><p>“You … don’t?”</p><p>“Any templar can, if they wish,” Nicole said, choosing her words with care. </p><p>“It isn’t part of your training?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“But surely every templar <em> needs </em> to know the risks–”</p><p>“We all see the risks. We all know. But to do what we do, we need lyrium. That is the price we all pay.”</p><p>Nicole didn’t mention her own slow, grueling drive toward abstinence, nor those experimenting beside her. Waverly already had her nose in far too many of the Tower’s intrigues as it was. Better to keep this secret.</p><p>Waverly was clearly curious, but before she could pry further the Tower’s bell chimed and Nicole seized the opportunity to move on from the conversation. “I must retire for the evening, Waverly. The Icebreaker moors early tomorrow, and there is much to be done.”</p><p>“Mm,” Waverly agreed, but her eyes were calculating as she finished off her tea and stood. “Thank you for the tea and the … illuminating conversation.”</p><p>Nicole stood as well, trying to convince a smile onto her tired face. “Thank you for the help with the Repository. It would have taken much longer to find out what had happened if you hadn’t stopped by.”</p><p>Waverly did smile then. “I am glad justice will be done. And there will be no storms tonight.”</p><p>With that, she turned and left. Nicole was left with only the sweet scents of vanilla and lavender lingering in the air, all undercut with the fading hint of angry rosemary.</p><p>Calamity woofed from the door leading to her chambers, and Nicole shook herself back to life. “Yes, Calamity. Let’s go to bed.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you liked it, leave a little love below. Hours to write, minutes to comment or kudos. Every little bit keeps the fires burning. </p><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Come find me on Twitter! <a href="https://twitter.com/SmugMischief">@SmugMischief</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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